Not Quite Paradise
by kamelion
Summary: A vacation goes horribly wrong. Rated T for language and situations. JoshSamToby friendship. Originally posted at the SamSeabornfanfic group
1. Chapter 1

The first thing Sam noticed was the dank smell of earth and rotten wood, and how his office never smelled that bad, no matter how many bath-less nights in a row he stayed in it. The second thing was that he ached all over, every centimeter of flesh and muscle blazing with pain, and that never happened even when he slept on Toby's sofa. The third was that he wasn't alone, which might or might not be a good thing. . . this realization squelched the fourth thing he would have noticed, because the person in the room with him was saying his name over and over in an annoying, relentless manner. Sam raised his head slowly, blinking into the near darkness, feeling dirt grind into the corner of his eye. Confused, he tried to push himself up, and discovered couldn't move his arms. His name sounded once more as he stirred; a desperate, irritating hiss. "Sam!"

He tried not to grunt as he lowered his head to the dirt, trying to remember if he had been to a party, accosted at a bar, or with any luck, laid. "Oh. . .god. What?"

There was a distinguishable sigh of relief. "Sam, you okay? You with me?"

Well, he was hurting, and he was somewhere, which was the best he could assess the situation. "Yeah."

There was a loud sigh from somewhere. "'Bout damn time! I thought you just slept like the dead. Knock you out and man, you're out." Sam heard a shuffling sound and strained to find the source.

"What're you talking about. . .ah!. . .sonofa. . ."

"Stop, don't move." Sam could sense the man near him, then right over him, crowding the space over his head. He cringed, wanting to back away, but this person knew him, even if he himself had no clue what was going on. The smell of sweat was overpowering and Sam flinched, but beneath it a familiar, lingering scent of aftershave, a smell he was accustomed to. . .

"Josh?" Sam coughed. "What the hell?"

"Hang on. Keep your head still." There were sounds of more shuffling. "Can't really see, but I think the bleeding's stopped."

"Blood?" Sam struggled with the grogginess he felt, trying to grasp hold of a situation that dangled just out of his reach. "What happened?"

"Oh, we got knocked around a bit. That's all I can say. I mean, that's all I know, I woke up and thought I was alone, then I saw you here." He sat clumsily beside Sam. "Don't remember a damn thing. Did you pay the tab?"

"So we were in a bar?"

"Hell if I know." There was a movement as Josh nodded lazily. "Good news though, think the sun's coming up."

It was indeed, and it cast a pale shaft of light into the small room though thin slats of wood. The lines it created sliced through the gloom and pointed back at his friend. Sam winced and watched as it grew in intensity until it blinded him, the beam drifting over his eyes. Again he tried to use his hands to push himself out of the way, but they were bound firmly behind his back. No bar, no back alley. He rolled slightly until he found his knees, and managed to raise himself to a seated position against the wooden wall, which seemed to bow sickeningly behind him. His arm bumped Josh's, and he glanced over.

It was his first look at his friend's haggard face. A glance told the story, and he shouldered himself from the wall and turned to face Josh, his mind clearing through shock. "My god, and you were asking about me?"

Josh shifted uncomfortably. "It's nothing."

"And I suppose you've had a chance to look in a mirror to make sure." Sam leaned in, squinting at the cuts and bruises.

"I got hit. Just like you. You don't look so great either, ya know."

Sam didn't want to think about that. He could feel it, a sudden reminder that not only were they no longer in Kansas, but apparently the wicked witch of the west was alive and well and set on vengeance. _Hail Dorothy my ass._ Sam's brows pulled tight as he regarded his friend, then he turned and sank against the wall beside him. His arms twitched as he fought the ropes on his wrists. "You stink."

"You're no garden yourself."

"Where's your shirt?"

"Same place yours is, I guess."

Sam glanced at Josh again and blinked slowly. "Never knew you wore wife beaters."

"What?" The absurdity of the pending conversation wasn't lost on Josh.

"Wife beaters. Your tee."

"It's an undershirt!"

"It doesn't have sleeves."

"And?"

"It's a wife beater shirt."

Josh stared. "I can't believe those words are coming out of your mouth."

"Oh come on. You know every movie they show where the wife is abused," Sam tugged at his wrists ". . . nine times out of ten the man's in a sleeveless undershirt. . . just like that one."

"Okay, see, first off I don't have a wife, no thanks to your interference, and second. . .you're saying I'm a wife beater?"

"I'm saying your shirt is."

"I'll be sure to turn it in to the proper authorities." Josh shifted. "Your hands asleep?"

"Yeah." It was worse than that. The rope was rough and prickly and way too tight. His fingers were numb, and his shoulders were stiff.

Josh leaned his head back with a thump. "I was going on vacation, you know, on my own. I could be in Barbados. White beaches, umbrella drinks, things on sticks. . .but no, we just had to come here. . ."

"Josh. . ."

"You know I'm going to blame you for this. . ."

"Josh. . ."

". . .forever. Forever will I blame you."

"Josh, that's not helping." His mind was starting to focus, and he was starting to recall more than the fact that he was in a shitty room with a good, but annoying, friend. It brought to mind another good, annoying friend. . ."Where's Toby?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Sam, I would think that with all of your vast experience working at the top law firms in the nation, then as a purveyor of golden words in the absolute ultimate government facility in the world, you'd understand what I mean by 'I DON'T KNOW'!" Josh's words echoed painfully in the room, making both men wince. He glanced at Sam. "Sorry. I'm a little tense."

"They didn't get him then?" Sam's voice was soft and forced. Josh turned an apologetic face to him.

"No. . .no, I don't think so."

"I don't. . .I don't suppose you know who 'they' would be?"

"Nope," Josh sighed. "God this sucks, look, if we turn back to back, you think. . .can you do that? Are you dizzy, what's – what's wrong?"

Sam was wincing and giving his head tiny shakes. "I. . .yeah. Dizzy." The numbness seemed to be spreading to his brain. "Lie down, then. But for god's sake keep your eyes open."

It was a subtle hint of concern that wasn't lost on Sam. "No, I'm okay. Turn around."

"You sure?"

"Just. . .yeah, I'm sure. Just do it." This was a situation he wanted out of, the sooner the better.

Josh grunted and managed to twist with his back facing Sam, who twisted in turn until they were back to back. He allowed his shoulders to brace against Sam's, and tried not to knock against his head. "Well, this feels. . .freakish." He'd known Sam for a long time, they'd played sport together, worked together, just about seen each naked, scary as that was, but it was nothing compared to being back to back with him, their hands intertwined, each working the knots that bound them. "Way too freakish."

"Wanna stay like this?"

"No."

"Then shut up." Sam's voice was strained. It was getting harder to concentrate, and right when he'd found some clarity. . .his head slipped back and knocked into Josh's.

"Sam!"

"Ow. . .sorry."

"Look, will you please. . .no, wait, I think it's getting looser. . ."

Their attempts were halted as the door was flung open. Each man turned away from light that burst like flame across the floor and filled the room with yellow. Before their vision focused they were aware of being pulled away from each other, which was all they needed to be thrown into a panic. Josh was pulled to his feet and flung against the wall, a thick arm pressing his neck to the boards, the rough woods scoring his arms. He could see Sam on the floor in the corner, and in the new light he saw that the head injury his friend sustained was as bad as he feared. Shit. He schooled his face into what he hoped was a semblance of calm, but jumped as the man who was leaning over Sam jerked his shoulder to the floor and held him there. Josh wanted to ask if they were going to be killed, what they wanted, and who they were, and precisely in that order. Instead he watched as the man standing over Sam slowly knelt down and pressed his knee against the man's chest, slowly crushing the air from his lungs, slowly causing him pain.

He hated pain. It wasn't a good thing.

The man that held Josh smiled, his teeth yellow against leathered skin. "Amelican Dip-lo-mat"

"Pardon?" Josh croaked, his eyes darting from his captor to Sam.

"You Amelican dip-lo-mats."

"Why?" The question was hesitant.

"We need dip-lo-mats."

"What. . .for?"

"We need dip-lo-mats."

"This is going to take a while," Josh muttered. He grunted as his head was whipped back against the wall by an unseen hand.

"Your friend is dip-lo-mat," Yellow Teeth insisted.

"He's - he's a writer," Josh forced out, his eyes falling to the figure on the floor. Sam was watching the scene intently, and winced at Josh's words. "What do you want from us?"

"We need dip-lo-mats."

"So you've said. . ."

"You will help us."

"I'm not helping you do a damn thing," Josh muttered through clenched teeth. The room spun and he found himself face down on the floor, his arms wrenched painfully upwards behind him. He could see Sam's expression, his anger, and held that gaze as a voice stale with liquor met his ear.

"You will." The dark head tilted towards Sam. "Or he dies."

Josh snarled his helplessness as he was yanked back to his feet and found himself face to face with the wall and a rough hand bracing back of his neck. The ropes were removed from his wrists and he spun and glared, rubbing the pain away, watching in growing anger as the man hovering over Sam stood and braced his friend to the floor with one heavy boot on his shoulder. The man smiled, pressed down enough to hear a pop, then pulled back. Sam's face went rigid with pain and his eyes clenched shut, but he didn't allow a sound to creep from his tight lips.

Josh didn't even think. His body moved on its own, launching forward with a yell, seizing the man by the shirt and throwing him aside as other hands caught him and flung him across the floor. He hit the ground hard, looking up just in time to see the men rush out. He sprang to his feet and ran to the door, grabbing it by the edge and cursing as his fingers were forced away and the door was pulled closed and latched right before his nose. "Assholes! ASSHOLES!" Josh pounded on the worn wood, hoping it would splinter under force, then peeked between the slats. "Guards. With guns." He cursed once more and pounded a few more times before heaving a sigh. Sam was still on the ground, but had rolled and was trying to sit up.

Josh watched for a moment before helping him, bracing his back, while avoiding the injured shoulder. "Easy! Move slow."

"Damn, it hurts."

"Lemme see." Josh carefully pulled the sleeve of Sam's t-shirt up and over the shoulder joint. There was a red imprint of boot tread, already fading. He squeezed the flesh carefully, then tighter, pressing his fingers into the joints and muscles. "Think it's okay. It'll bruise."

"It will now," Sam muttered as he jerked away.

Josh pulled the sleeve back down settled on the ground, starting on Sam's ropes. "What about your chest?" Josh reached around and made motions to lift Sam's shirt, but Sam blocked the motion.

"What the. . .look, it hurts, so does my head, can we not talk about that and instead talk about getting outta here?"

"Why, you got a plan?" Josh frowned over the knots. "You been pulling at this?"

"No and yes."

"Well, don't. I can't loosen it."

Sam's thoughts weren't on the ropes. "Was there anything we said in a meeting, anything the President said in a speech, anything I wrote in a speech. . ."

"I'd say your writing was as impeccable as always. . ."

"We aren't in any major conflicts. No military actions." He glanced back at Josh. "What's this about?"

"You're asking as if I have a clue."

"I was hoping you did."

"Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint you." Josh finally worked the knot loose and threaded the rope backwards. A few good tugs and Sam had both hands in front of him, rubbing away the rawness and cursing the pain in his shoulder. "I can't even be sure we're in the same country anymore." Josh leaned back with a sigh and watched Sam.

"We're over the border?"

"Beaches, Sam, pearl white beaches. . ."

"Oh, shut up." Sam squinted and turned away.

"Girls in bikinis, bathing in bikinis, running in bikinis. . . ."

"Josh?" Sam's voice was heavy.

"Yeah?"

Sam was leaning slightly, his hands reaching out, his brow furrowed then relaxing. "I'm gonna pass out now." His eyes fluttered. He didn't feel his friend ease him to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Toby lay on the bed, watching the ceiling fan spin slowly above him, stirring the heated air and providing absolutely no relief. Beads of sweat rolled down the sides of his face, due as much to stress as the humid air. This was asinine. He was going to kill them, both of them. There was no excuse for this, no reason to leave him worrying with absolutely no word. Okay, so he hadn't wanted to join them on their girl-searching party, he had merely wanted to spend the evening alone in his room, relaxing, reading the latest La Carre novel, drinking his mixed drinks and enjoying himself. And he stayed behind and did just that while Josh and Sam hit the bars, turning off the lights at one am and burying himself in the covers of his bed, pulling the sheet up over his head and sighing away his exhaustion. He never budged, never had an uneven breath, even as the late party-goers staggered back to their rooms, as the music blared around him then dimmed in the wee hours of the morning. He woke to red rays of sun beating down on the colorful streets, breakfast ready for him on the veranda, and no sign of either Josh or Sam.

He still hadn't been worried, figuring that they had either scored, or drunk themselves into a stupor. He was fully prepared for the sight of them stumbling into his hotel room, disheveled and ill, each trying to outdo the other with stories of events too improbable to have happened. So he spent the morning browsing though the speciality papers sent up to him, dipping his bagel into the cream sauce and sipping his black coffee, determined to enjoy even more peace and quiet as he waited. But the hours drifted by slowly, and he had become restless. By noon he was constantly watching the view from his window, an hour later he was on the streets. Four hours later he was asking people if they had seen Sam or Josh milling about, and now, nearly twenty-four hours since they had departed, he lay still on his bed, waiting, wondering, and trying not to call Leo. They had accused him of being too stiff, of being a party-pooper, at least that was Josh's phrasing. Sam had merely said that Toby needed to let off some stream. Toby insisted any steam that was to be let off didn't require the company of beautiful women, which sent the other two into hysterics as they walked out of Toby's room. Toby had merely shaken his head and picked up his book.

Now he stared at the fan and wondered if this was their idea of a joke.

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It wasn't a sound Sam expected to hear. The room was darkening, and it was evident that no artificial light was going to be provided. The two men were sitting close, each fighting the shadows in their own way, but still. . ."Josh?"

"Huh?"

"Are you humming?"

"Yeah."

"Now?"

"It's a way to keep myself from succumbing to the intense terror I feel."

"Ah. Hum away."

"Actually I've been thinking," Josh glared at Sam, "don't give me that look. . .these people have no clue who we are."

"They think we're dip-lo-mats," Sam muttered.

"Yes, but they don't know WHO we are."

Sam eyed him askance. "What's your point?"

"My point is. . .that – they don't know who we are."

Sam blinked at him.

"Yeah, I know." Josh resumed humming.

Sam pushed himself to his feet. The air was thick and suffocating, breathing it was like breathing underwater, or filling his lungs with heavy lead. He forced his tired legs forward, concentrating on the movement, feeling the blood flow through a maze pins and needles. For the first time he really took in his surroundings.

The room was actually a shack, probably a tiny house at one time. There was a battered wooden fan half hanging from the ceiling, and the windows were blocked with thick planks. The walls were fairly sturdy, sturdy enough to hold people in for a while, but the door had seen better days, looking like something thrown together from a refuse pile. He rubbed his shoulder and limped across the room to look through the slats in the door, only to see brown eyes staring right back. "_Shit_!" He jumped and stumbled back. Laughter could be heard, and rapid speech, which faded into the distance.

"Problem?" Josh asked, his eyes closed.

"More than one. But nothing we can do anything about." Sam crossed back and sat beside him. "How are you?"

"We gonna keep asking each other this?"

"I'm trying to show some concern here."

"Fine. I'm. . . fine."

"Right," Sam responded in disbelief.

"Well, ask a stupid question. . ."

"Look, forget I asked." He tried fumbling in his pockets, but they came up empty. This led to yet another sigh as he leaned against the wall, arms propped on his knees.

"What do you think of Amy?"

The question was startling, to say the least. Did Josh have a fever? "What?"

"I asked, what do you think of Amy?"

Sam hesitated. "I don't know. Can she get us out of here?"

"Only if we were being held by the woman's coalition."

"Then I don't think much of her at the moment." Sounds of shouting caught his attention, and he placed a hand on Josh's arm, then crawled carefully to the door.

"Sam, what the. . ." Josh found himself crawling behind him, only to stop in the middle of the room. Sam continued on, settling on his stomach to gaze underneath the door, which was a good inch and a half from the ground, hearing Josh hiss behind him, "What are you doing? Get back here!"

"Shh!"

Josh caught his breath in irritation, then focused his hearing on the anger in the yard before them. Sam peered, unmoving, and concentrated. "Something about a meeting, you understand this?"

"Shh. Shit, they're. . ." The door flew open before Sam could roll fully out of the way. It caught him on his sore shoulder, but that was nothing compare to the pain he felt as he was hurled against the wall. Josh was saying something, but he couldn't understand it over the cacophony of shouts, and Sam yelled out as he saw Josh double over from a blow to the stomach. Everything happened too fast, like a movie on speed, and before he knew it he was on the floor and alone.

Sam lurched and threw himself on the door, pounding his frustration onto the battered wood, his shouts echoing in the sudden silence. "Josh! JOSH! BASTARDS! _Josh_!" The door flew open and he stumbled back, and found himself looking down the deadly hole of a gun barrel. Slowly Sam backed away, trying to steady his breathing and glaring at the man with every ounce of animosity he could muster. The man walked in, calmly closing the door behind him. It was the first time Sam had been able to take a good look at their captors, and he was surprised to see that they, at least this man, looked too young to be able to hold a gun, let alone use it. But his build revealed high physical training, and his eyes held a fatal gleam. Young, maybe, but this a was person to take seriously. He took a cautious step, holding the gaze. "Shouldn't you be at home with your mom or something?" Sam asked, the sarcasm capping his anger. He tensed as a familiar shout barely registered in his ears. "What are you doing to him?"

"Training him to listen." The young man curled his lips in a semblance of a smile.

"You son of a bitch." Sam's voice was low and poisonous. It coaxed a laugh from his guard, causing Sam to clench his fist as his chest tightened like a tense band. "I'm glad you think this is funny, really, cause I bet you don't get many laughs around here, but if you hurt him," Sam looked the man square in the eyes, "I swear I'll kill you. I'll tear you to pieces so small the birds can't find them."

The smile grew, then fell as the seriousness of Sam's threat weighed the air, and his eyes never waved from the locked gaze. The boy snarled, and the butt of the rifle met Sam's cheekbone with violent force. Another stab had him doubled over and gasping. The boy reached down and snatched a handful of dark hair, jerking Sam's gaze back up to his. "You mistake me," he snarled, "you will die, not me. Your friend cause trouble, you die." Sam glared up at him, his arm wrapped around his mid-section. He jerked back as the man spat on him, then walked out. Sam braced himself on his knees, his head sunk to his chest, trying to block the sounds from the other shack, and wondering what had happened to Toby.

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Toby was finished with worrying. He was rapidly approaching full blown panic, to the point that he called the White House on his cell to see if either Sam or Josh had checked in for some unknown reason. He didn't want to say they were missing, but dammit, it had been too long. Way too damn long. "Leo?"

"Toby? What are you doing calling here?"

"Well, last I heard I was employed by the President."

"Yes, but you're supposed to be taking the weekend off."

"Oh, if that were only the case."

"Toby, is something wrong?"

"I. . .don't know."

"Toby. . ."

"Have you heard from either Josh or Sam?"

"Should I have?"

"I had hoped so."

"Aren't they with you? I thought Sam talked you into going to some sort of resort. . ."

"They were, he did, and now they aren't."

"I don't follow."

"I haven't seen them since yesterday, Leo. They aren't answering their pages or their cell phones. I can't find anyone who has seen them, I have no evidence that they even returned to the hotel at any point during the night. Now, I know I'm not the greatest company, I wanted to be left alone to read my book, but they wouldn't just disappear. Not unless this is a really sick joke."

"You think something's happened?"

"I'm trying not to, but this is a bit out of character for them. They'd at least check in, and at this point I'm looking at twenty-six hours and no word."

"All right, let me make some calls. Keep your phone on, you may be going to the nearest Embassy. I'll get back to you in half an hour, and call me if you hear hide or hair of them."

"Thanks, Leo." Toby hung up and sighed, then sat down to resume waiting.

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Leo waited in the Oval office. The sun was setting low, casting orange shadows along the walls, giving him a headache. It was the same kind of light that followed the fall storms, only there hadn't been any rain. He paced the room, unable to sit, unable to get the tone of Toby's voice out of his head. It wasn't so much the words that alarmed him, it was the subtle panic. Toby wasn't given to panic, or jumping to conclusions, and he had as good an instinct as anyone when something didn't feel right. And Leo had to agree, being in the situation they were in, being that they were who they were, it was rare that the White House staff didn't check in with each other, even while on vacation. That was simply because they never stopped working. Something was always going on that warranted at least one call a day, if not to the offices, then to a staff member. The fact that Toby was there with them, and had no word from them was disconcerting to say the least.

The President entered the room with his usual flourish, filling it with a regal presence. His brow was furrowed, however, and he instantly recognized the look of concern on Leo's face. "What's happened?"

"Toby called. He's lost touch with Sam and Josh."

"How long?" He stood before Leo, his hands in his pockets, his head dipped slightly as he tried to catch the other man's gaze.

"Twenty-six hours." Leo met the gaze levelly.

"Nothing?"

"No signs they've been in the area."

"No calls?"

"Nothing."

"You sure they aren't pulling Toby's leg?"

"I doubt it, sir, not and have it last this long."

The President nodded and walked to his desk. "Get Rob in here. And notify the Embassy."

"Yes, sir."

"And see if you can secure a line to Toby for me."

"Thank you, sir."


	3. Chapter 3

Josh stood stiffly. He wasn't going to collapse. He wasn't going to let himself. No matter how hard he'd been beaten, no matter how he'd been whipped or punched. His ears roared, he hardly heard the demands anymore. The two men holding him were meaningless, the pain was meaningless. His attachment to the real world was meaningless, and drifting. He was in hell, and burning.

The man before him grinned. He was a good bit older than the others, who seemed like children compared to him. Very strong, very serious children. "You help us." Dark eyes gleamed from beneath a speckled bandana.

"Go spit." Josh could hardly talk. His split lips ached, blood caught in his mouth, and he was certain that talking would make his tongue fall out. There wasn't a bit of him that didn't sting or feel bruised beyond recognition.

"You talk. You are dip-lo-mat."

It was like being in a bad film. One of those G, H, or I things that was so bad it couldn't have a realistic rating. "Talk? To who?"

"Ah, you understand now." The man leaned into him. "Weapons trade. You talk to them. Get us guns, comprende?"

"You. . .want me to negotiate a weapons trade," he barely gasped, "that's what this is?"

"You get us guns. We protect our people. You live, your friend lives. You say no," the man shrugged, "you watch your writer friend die."

"Why me?"

The man-child thumped Josh on his chest with the back of his hand. "You talk a lot. You stand tall."

Josh almost laughed, then thought about what was said. He'd been on television a lot lately, much more so than Sam, who had been holed up in his office with Toby preparing for the state dinner speech that was rapidly turning into a meaningful proposal. . .the precise wording it required had been giving them fits and Josh had been filling in the appearances that week that were assigned to Sam. That meant. . . "You know who we are?"

"Amelican dip-lo-mat."

"Yeah, I got that, okay. Look. I'm not going to negotiate anything for you." He spoke softly, almost conciliatory, but underneath his words there was a sense of danger, and he could feel the grips on his arms tighten in response. "Apparently you don't know who you have. I suggest you let us go."

The dark eyes narrowed, and the rough face pressed close to his. "You are certain?"

"I've never been more certain," Josh responded in a low, even voice.

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as he backed away. "Fine. You have just killed your friend by saying no." He gestured to a man in the corner, who left quickly.

"What? No, wait, WAIT!" Josh choked back disbelief, then panic as felt himself being pulled backwards and shoved through the door into the bright sun. He could see the shack where they were held, and Sam being pulled out. Once again his hands were bound, this time in front of him, and he was pushed along until they reached Josh.

The relief on Sam's face at seeing his friend safe was evident, as was the quick look of concern that followed. It touched Josh, for a moment. Sam's eyes squinted in the bright air, struggling to adjust, yet they narrowed further as he took in the new injuries. Josh kept Sam's gaze locked with his. "You don't have to do this," he said to the leader, quietly, hoping his calm tone would have an effect.

"You will help us." There was no room for debate. A gun was pulled and pointed at Sam's head. The hammer cocked, and Sam flinched.

Josh swallowed hard, his breathing rapid as he looked into Sam's eyes, trying to offer what reassurance he could, which wasn't much. His friend stood still, afraid but struggling to hide it. "Don't do it, Josh," he muttered.

"Don't be a hero," Josh muttered back.

"I'm serious. Don't help them do a damn thing." Sam winced as the gun was shoved hard against his temple. The man holding him barked out in his foreign tongue, and Josh caught one word, 'trigger'.

Josh stared at the gun. He knew the sound of it, knew what would happen if the trigger was pulled, where the bullet would exit, how Sam would fall. . .he fought past his own flashbacks, the sounds of gunfire, the wailing sirens, the searing pain. . ."I can't. . ."

"Enough! You will help us." The leader's voice cut through the air like a machete.

Josh blinked rapidly. He looked at the gun, a mass of metal that seemed too large to fit into such a young hand. He looked at Sam, at the stiffness in his posture, the conviction in those expressive eyes. "No," he whispered.

The man holding Sam wrapped his arm around his throat, pulling him back, and cocked the gun. Josh pulled forward, felt himself held back, and thought he was going to lose control of every physical function he possessed. Sam's eyes closed, he swallowed and waited. And waited.

He slowly opened his eyes to see the leader staring at him, then at Josh, his dark face deepening in anger. Josh was pale, shaking, unsure, his face turned away. Slowly he looked back, meeting Sam's confusion with his own.

"Take them." The leader turned on his heel and walked into the jungle, yelling obscenities and signaling for two men to follow. Josh's shoulders sagged as the gun was lowered and they were led back to the shack, thrown in, and the door locked behind them.

They collapsed on the earthen floor, each breathing hard and in shock. The cool dirt pressed to their faces, and they didn't move. The young men outside were yelling, arguing, and the sounds faded as they walked further away, leaving only the pained gasps and rapid breaths. They lay that way for a good while.

Josh rose first, his head thumping, his breathing steadied, and he crawled over and unashamedly pulled his friend to him, holding him, trying to let his embrace say what words couldn't. "Jesus Christ, Sam. . ."

"It's okay. I told you to do it." Sam started to pull away, then let himself collapse onto Josh's shoulder for a moment.

"My god, I could've – you'd be, oh god. . ." Josh suddenly pushed him away and crawled to the corner, as far from Sam as possible, and vomited.

"Josh?" Sam started towards him, then turned away, granting the man a bit of privacy. Using his teeth he set to working on his bonds. "These people are obsessed with ropes," he muttered around his grip, hoping to ease Josh into a bit of humor. When Josh recovered he sat back, looking at Sam, at the friend he felt he almost killed, the horror still pasted on his face like an evil mask. He watched until the shock subsided, then crawled over to him.

"May as well keep this on," he muttered, looking at the knot.

"One wonders." Sam held out his wrists. His eyes followed the thin line of blood that snaked from the corner of Josh's mouth. "Bastards. I swear to god. . .are you – dammit!"

Josh was taking deep breaths, and trying to focus his mind on the situation. "Y-You know what I think?" he asked shakily.

"?"

"I don't think he wanted to kill you. I mean – I don't think they're very experienced at this."

"That's. . .comforting. . .I guess. . ."

"I mean, we may can use that."

Sam sat back and gave Josh a good, hard stare. "You know, I thought they were going to kill you. When they took you out of here." He took in the swollen eye, the purpling cheek, the shaky fingers.

"I'm . . . sorry."

"I swore I would kill them if they did. If they so much as touched you." Josh glanced up and allowed a faint smile of gratitude cross his lips as he continued to work the ropes. "What did they say to you?"

Josh couldn't understand why Sam was looking at him like that. He'd never seen such controlled fury on the man's face. "They want me to negotiate a weapons exchange of some kind."

"You're kidding."

"Yeah, I decided on the way in that I'd think up a joke to lighten the mood."

"Why us?"

"Well, they saw me on TV. Guess they liked my looks." He gave the rope a final tug and tossed it aside.

"Do they know who we are?"

"Precisely?" Josh sighed. "No, I don't think so."

"Not precisely?"

"They just know that we're associated with the US government. Now what that means in their warped, distorted minds is anybody's guess." Josh jumped as the door was opened and a man entered with two trays.

"Eat. You like. Good drink too." He slammed the two trays down and snatched the discarded rope from the ground before leaving.

The two friends stared at the door in silence. "See?" Sam finally said, "rope obsessed."

"They fed us!"

"If this is food."

"I'll take my chances." Josh picked up a tray and sniffed. "Or not."

Sam just set his aside and lay back. His head was swimming again and he felt sick. "Sure it's wise, I mean, you just threw up." The words made his own stomach churn.

"I eat when I'm stressed."

"Right. You eat then, I gotta. . .sleep or something."

"You okay?"

"Dizzy again."

"Right," Josh said slowly, his concern peeking through. "I'll keep watch." Sam snorted in response as he walked over to the back wall and curled up.

Josh sat quietly, knees pulled to his chest, listening to the sounds outside, and the mild conversation on the other side of the door. He wondered what was going on at the White House, what Leo was up to, if Toby was okay and worried, and if he'd called anybody. He wondered if anyone would find them, or look, or if they'd just be chalked up as missing. Of course someone would look, but just for so long, and they had no idea where to start. And he had no way to get in touch with them. They were lucky today. He'd have to come to a decision, and the thought that the life of his friend hung in the balance here didn't help. Sam knew it. He was putting a good face on it, but he didn't want to die any more than Josh wanted him to. He couldn't believe they were in this situation. Never would have imagined it. Sam knew Josh would never question his loyalty, and Josh knew the same about Sam, but that knowledge wasn't going to save them. At best it would help them delay things a bit. "Sam?"

"Hmm?"

Josh heard the crickets outside. At least he assumed they were crickets. They sounded too large. "Are you, you know." He hesitated, his head tilting to the side before looking down. "Are you scared?"

There was no reply for some time. Josh had given up on an answer when a small, tired voice said, "yes."

"We're gonna get outta here. Toby'll make sure of that."

"Sure."

"You believe me, right?"

"Sure."

Josh didn't like the doubt in Sam's voice, and chalked it up to fatigue. He glanced behind him, and crawled near his friend, curling up on the floor and thinking of the three of them, he, Sam and Toby, playing basketball in the summer heat. He tried to think only of that as he fell asleep.

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Toby marched into the Embassy. It wasn't so much a march as a bonafide stomp, his heavy shoes echoing in the thin halls, his heels scraping, each step betraying his anger. He didn't hesitate as he burst though the door and bypassed the secretary, hunted for the proper room as she protested behind him, and hurled himself into an office during a meeting. "You're done. I need to talk to him," he pointed a firm finger to the man behind the desk, "so if you will excuse me I'm certain this meeting can be resumed when US National Security isn't being compromised."

The man behind the desk slowly rose. "As concerned as I am for the security of our United friends, our own security must take precedence, and at the moment we have a pressing issue, so if you would please," he gestures to the open door, "I have been informed of your situation and will be with you as soon as possible."

Toby huffed and look at the cabinet. "This isn't a meeting of the country club, the courses are closed, which I'm not happy about, by the way, and I don't see how. . ."

"This is a meeting which affects our _own_ national security, so if you would, sir," he pointedly gestured to the door once again, "Elana will see that you are refreshed and comfortable."

Toby fumed in the center of the room, then gave a curt nod. "Of course." He eyed the men, and two women, sitting in the chairs around the room. "Of course. I apologize." Toby lowered his head and walked out, and into the presence of Ms. Elana.

"I told you not to go in there," she said, smugly.

"And I heard you, I just chose to ignore you."

Elana looked at him down the thick bridge of her nose. "May I offer you a drink?"

Poisoned, judging by her expression. Toby decided it was best to calm the waters. "That would be nice, thank you," he replied, rather humbly, suddenly realizing where his anger had taken him. He sat in a hard chair and fingered the fax he'd received at the hotel, holding only a name and address, and thought back to the conversation with Leo.

"_You get the fax?"_

"_Yeah," Toby pieced the two halves together with tape, phone propped on his shoulder,"yanked it too hard. These crappy machines grab the damn paper and won't let go."_

"_What?"_

"_I'm saying I tore it, Leo, what is this?"_

"_This is the man you are to meet. There isn't much that can be done at the moment, you need to meet with him, give him your information, and book the next flight out of there."_

_Toby straightened. "Ex-excuse me?"_

"_I said you need to leave, Toby. It's not a request."_

"_No, you're saying to leave Sam and Josh. Why?"_

"_The situation over the border is escalating. Two factions that have been at peace for years suddenly decided to take a crack at each other, and I don't think diplomatic immunity is going to be of much use."_

"_Warring factions? I really did walk into a novel."_

"_I wouldn't know, I don't read what you do."_

"_Leo. . ." Toby glanced around him and lowered his voice. "This is a long shot, but what if they were snatched off the street by one of these factions?"_

"_At this point I'd say that is a real possibility. I'd also say there is no evidence to that fact, and if they are in the habit of snatching political profiles off the street then your ass needs to be on the next flight to Washington!"_

"_I'm not leaving them."_

"_Toby. . ."_

"_No. I'm not just going to up and run when I don't know where my friends are, okay? I'm sorry if you can't understand that."_

"_Of course I understand, what do you take me for? Now I'm giving you a direct order. . ."_

"_I have an appointment. I'll get back to you in an hour." And he did something he'd never done before._

_He hung up on Leo McGarry._

"Sir, he's ready for you." Elana continued to watch Toby down the odd angle of her nose. Toby stood slowly and bowed in an exaggerated, sarcastic manner then walked in, shouldering past the exiting cabinet members.

"Have a seat, Mr. Ziegler. I'm Donald Mainstaff."

"I know who you are," Toby said, still standing, "what I don't know is how you can allow two American citizens, government personnel, to go missing and not give a rat's ass about it?"

"Mr. Ziegler, we have a conflict that must be dealt with. I assure you we are concerned for your friends. I have talked at length with Mr. McGarry, and he understands the situation. I assume you are taking the next flight out?"

"I'm not going anywhere." His tone was matter of fact, and left no room for debate.

"Sir, we have people looking. You saw nothing, and we have little to go on."

"Oh, I'd say you have a lot to go on," Toby said, leaning over the desk. "Look, Mainstay. . ."

"Mainstaff. . ."

"Whatever, what about these factions? They could have been walking down the street and-and shoved into a car."

"Which someone would have seen and reported."

"Okay, coerced. Dammit, there are a thousand scenarios and infinite possibilities, and you aren't going along any of those lines?"

"Mr. Ziegler," Mainstaff said patiently, "if there are as many possibilities as you say, wouldn't it be impossible to go along all of those lines?"

Toby clamped his mouth shut and clenched his fists. With a heavy sigh he turned and sat in a folding chair along the side wall, rubbing his face.

Mainstaff watched, and quieted his tone. "I assure you, we are doing what we can with what we have to spare. With the situation escalating, we cannot bring in external help. To ask for foreign aid at this point could only make matters worse and force a war that we are trying to avoid. We have to temporarily close the airports and the seaport. We are caught in the middle, Mr. Ziegler."

"I can't believe Sam wanted to come here."

"This was unwarranted. No one saw it. We were. . .unprepared."

Toby nodded slightly. "I'm sure you're doing all you can."

"I assure you, we are."

"They're my friends."

"I know."

"I'm not leaving."

"You can't do much to help us here."

"That may be, but I may can do something at some point, so I'm not leaving."

Mainstaff straightened. "Are you not needed?"

"I have four days leave."

"With the understanding that you can return to the states at a moment's notice. That will not be possible in 28 hours time."

"Then we have 28 hours to find something, don't we?" Toby met Mainstaff's gaze with a penetrating one of his own.

Mainstaff nodded slowly. "I admire your loyalty to your friends. I will devote what I can to help for the next 28 hours. Then we must go on lockdown."

Toby sighed in semi-relief. "That's all I ask, I understand, thank you."

Mainstaff tore off a sheet of paper and scribbled on it. "Inspector Salentre is available to you, he's the one taking notes on this."

"Thank you." Toby rose, then hesitated. "You think it's possible though, that one of these factions recognized them and took them off the street."

"US television is everywhere here. CNN is a favorite in the business district. I think it's very likely."

"Such is the power of the media." Toby folded the paper. "Thank you for your time, and. . .I'm sorry about. . .you know. . ."

"Perfectly understandable under the circumstances. I'll be in touch."

"Yeah, well, thank you." Toby raised the paper and started to leave. He turned. "Mainstaff, sound like an usual name for these parts."

"My father was British."

"Right. Thanks again."

Mainstaff nodded a farewell, then his expression soured. He picked up the phone.


	4. Chapter 4

They had taken Josh again. Sam paced, furious, darting glances through the slats of the doors, wiping the sweat from his forehead until he decided the motion was useless. Lines of sunlight dripped in, striping the ground, looking more and more like bars that slowly crept to the side as the sun passed overhead. When Josh had been taken they were pointing directly at the back of the shack, now they had lengthened and turned, fattening as they ate through the dark, running slowly to the east side wall. At least he assumed that direction was east. He really had no idea. All he knew for certain was, Josh had been gone for hours. There were no shouts, no cries of pain, nothing. The guards outside smoked their hand-rolled cigarettes and tossed small rocks and roots at a can. They played cards and walked around; every once in a while one would cock their head toward an unknown sound and the grip on their weapon would tighten. The guns never left their sides; like a security blanket, they slept curled around them in the hot air. Sam paced during these long hours, looked through the slats, paced, peeked, and finally fell to his knees when his tired legs could take no more and his stressed body cried out for a respite. He couldn't wear himself down. If the chance came to escape, he needed to be able to take it.

The sun rays were clear to the other side of the shack when the door opened and Josh was thrown in. Sam sat frozen until he door was locked, then crawled over to his friend and slowly turned him over. "Josh! Josh? Hey," he patted the man's face, "wake up." There was a faint grunt, a moan, and slits appeared. Sam gave a slight nod and let out the breath he'd been holding. He placed a hand on Josh's chest and put a soothing touch to his brow. "You hear me?" The response was a blink, a heavy sigh, and a slight nod as eyes closed once again. "What'd they do to you?"

"Oh – you know." There was a lengthy hesitation as Josh focused on the room. "He asked . . ."

"And?"

"Told him to go to hell." Josh's gaze had been fixed on the ceiling, now he turned his head towards Sam. "Sam, listen. You. . .you have to get out of here. I'll create a distraction. . ."

"Are you insane?"

". . .no, listen, you run through the jungle behind us. I think that's the right way, that's where the truck keeps coming from. . ."

"They hit you in the head, didn't they?" Josh's speech was slow, like he'd been drugged.

". . .find Toby, get back to the States."

"Josh. . ."

Josh grabbed his arm, suddenly frantic. "They're gonna kill you, Sam. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, well, they were gonna kill me last time. They didn't."

"They didn't want to shoot you. They wanted to scare me." Josh rolled onto his side, bracing with one elbow, and pinned Sam with a look. "They'll do it this time, I swear. I didn't. . .they're coming for you. They said so."

"Josh. . ."

"You have to go."

"No. No!" Sam stood in disgust. "You know, I can't believe you're even asking me to do this!"

"Dammit, they are going to kill you!" Josh underscored every word.

"And you really think I'm going to leave, just to save my own hide."

"Yes!"

Sam merely put his hands on his hips. "Boy, are you stupid."

"Dammit, Sam. . ."

"No. We leave together. Now, we need to find a way to get out of this shack. It's pretty sturdy, really, there's no way to knock out these slats without someone noticing." Sam's voice was low. "So we have to let them get us out."

"You're nuts."

"No more than you are, telling me to go on without you!" Sam's voice rose like thunder, and Josh winced.

"Okay, okay, keep it down. Look, we'll have to do this quick, we don't have a lot of time."

Sam nodded, setting his mouth in a grim line. He slowly sat down beside Josh, one leg bent, arm propped on his knee. His fingers rubbed worriedly, his gaze in the distance. When it turned back to Josh, there was a hint of fear amidst the soberness. "You really think they mean it this time?"

"Yes," Josh said quietly.

"When?"

"I don't know."

Sam nodded and sighed and turned away. His fist clenched, and he punched the air lightly, but with determination and turned back to Josh. "We need to get outta here. But you need to rest first."

"No time."

"Not no time! No choice. Look at you, Josh, you can't even stand. We couldn't get anywhere right now."

"Then you go!"

"NO! Enough of that. If I go, they'll hunt me down and kill you here."

Josh knew the truth in those words. He lay back and blinked at the ceiling. "Just give me a few minutes." His eyes closed.

Sam watched him, then rose and quietly walked over to the jug of water. He poured a little into his cupped hand and walked back to Josh, dabbing the bottom of his shirt in the warm liquid and doing his best to clean his friend's cuts.

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"I think you may be on to something here, Mr. Ziegler." The inspector smiled and ushered Toby out of his office. "We'll investigate it and let you know if anything. . ."

"That's-that's it?"

"We are not magicians, Mr. Ziegler. We cannot pull rabbits from hats." The door closed in his face, the frosted glass suddenly obscuring the view of the room, and effectively blocking Toby out.

_Son of a bitch_. He sighed and pulled out his phone. The voice on the other end was sharp and angry, obviously in the middle of something. "Leo? Toby. No, nothing, listen, this isn't going to work. We can't rely on these people. . .because they're blowing it off, that's why! I'm telling you, they don't give a rat's ass. . .no, I'm not waiting around. Screw the meeting! Leo. . .okay, okay, I'm listening." There was a lengthy pause as Toby paced. The voice on the other end rose in volume. "Leo, you can't be serious. Well, screw that too! I'm. . .okay, okay. I'll wait. Yeah, I guess I'm going back to the hotel, maybe this is all a nightmare and I'll go back and find them there and string them up on the ceiling fan. Yeah. I know, I know. Okay." The line went dead, and Toby flipped the phone closed. He glance back at the door, resisting the urge to kick it in, and forced himself outside.

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The sounds of shouts woke both of them, and they were instantly alert. "Shit. SHIT!" Josh jumped up and peered through the slats. "Dammit, we shouldn't of slept. . .dammit!" He pushed around Sam and tugged at a board in the wall. "Come on, help me!"

"Josh, there's no time. . ."

"They're coming!"

"I know they're coming!"

Josh straightened and faced him. "No, you don't understand. . ." He grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him to the back wall.

"Stop saying that, I understand fine!" The shouts and sounds grew closer. Sam held onto Josh's arm. "Promise me you'll get out of here. Don't let them. . .don't give in to them. Not to save me, or yourself."

The door slammed open. Josh swerved and planted himself in front of Sam, knowing what was coming, and scared shitless. Five men filtered in, blocking the door and facing them. Josh held one hand out, knowing the effort was meaningless. "No. No, I'm not gonna let you do this." He felt Sam's grip on his arm, felt the fingers pinching his muscle.

There was a thin smile aimed in their direction, and in that moment Josh's stomach fell.

Two men lunged and pulled Josh away as three others grabbed Sam. "No!" Josh reared back, fighting with everything he had. "What the fuck are you doing?? Damn you to hell, stop it! STOP IT!" He tugged and kicked and roared at the top of his lungs furiously. Sam's curses had joined his own as he was forced on his back, one man straddling his chest and kneeling on his arms. Another sat on his legs. Sam squirmed as best he could, uselessly, cursing the entire time as Josh raged.

He pulled forward, then stiffened as a knife was placed at this throat, the tip barely grazing the tender hollow at the base. "You sons of bitches," he gritted in a low voice, his heart pounding painfully, "What are you doing to him?"

"Giving him a drink." Leather-face grinned, his dark eyes beaming from underneath his bandana as he popped the cork from a tiny glass bottle.

"That's. . .not water, is it?" he asked weakly. Leather-face smiled and walked towards Sam.

Sam's eyes widened, and he started struggling anew. The brave face he had been wearing melted away. When Sam said they wanted to kill him, he thought he was going to be shot, killed quick, he should've known. . ."Josh. . ."

"Oh god, no, please don't do this, don't do this!" Josh strained forward once more and felt a prick.

"Josh!"

Josh fought to get to his friend, ignoring the blade, not feeling the pain as it swiped the side of his throat as a warning. "Bastards! Fuckin' bastards!" The leader just laughed and knelt before Sam, then pinched his cheeks as Sam pitched violently from side to side, trying to force them off. The man who straddled him held his head, and his mouth was forced open. At that moment, Josh felt as though his chest had ripped open in response. "NO! Dammit stop it, stop this! I'll do what you want, Fuck you!" Josh had never felt such desperation, such helplessness, not even when he was sitting on the sidewalk in Rosslyn with a bullet in him.

Hot tears burned his eyes, and a horrible gurgling sound replaced the oaths as he watched Sam fight the intrusion into this throat, fight to spit out the vile liquid that was destined to kill him. It sprayed into the faces of his captors and Josh cheered inwardly, only to panic as more was poured down Sam's throat and his mouth clamped shut. The leader pinched his nose, and he was forced to swallow and open his mouth to breathe. He sputtered and coughed, and was released.

Josh was released as well, and he stood horrified. His anger had built to a furious rage that tore him apart, yet he kept his wits about him. Until the men started to laugh as Sam curled into a ball.

Josh saw red.

He came at them with a war cry, fists swinging, and managed to take two of them down before he was punched in the jaw and sent reeling. He was slammed against the far wall, and again, and again, and by the time he'd recovered, the door was locked. He palmed his cheekbone and curled an arm around his ribs, then faced Sam, who lay with his back to him. As quickly as he was able he walked over to his friend and turned him over. The eyes that met him were coated with fear. "Sam. . ."

"Bastards! Oh. . . god, I. . .Josh. . ."

"It's okay, it'll be okay, you just gotta throw it up, come on. . ." Josh pulled him to an upright position, angling him over.

"I thought they didn't want to kill me." Sam's voice shook, and he bent in half as the cramps started. "Oh god. . ."

"Hang on," Josh said, rather ironically as he was the one trying to keep a hold on the pained man. Stick your fingers down your throat. . ." He was about to do it himself.

"No need, Oh JESUS!" Sam pulled away from Josh and vomited in the corner, over and over, until he swore his intestines were coming out of his mouth. He struggled for a breath, then retched violently. Josh held his shoulders and laid his forehead against the man's back as he fought to breathe. Gasp followed gasp, and he retched until the dry heaves burned his chest. An eternity passed before he was able to lay back with Josh's help. "Josh. . ."

"Still here."

"What'd they give me?"

"I don't know," Josh whispered. "I wish to god I did."

"Something's wrong, I can't breathe."

"Just – take it slow, okay? It'll pass." Josh blinked back tears of frustration.

"What if it doesn't pass?"

"I'm hoping you threw most of it up." Josh didn't know what to say. This was beyond anything he'd experienced, beyond any scenario he'd prepared for in his mind when he knew he'd be working in the White House.

Sam followed his thoughts. "They didn't. . . train us for this, you know. Not like this."

"We're not military."

"Boot camp for senior staff." Sam managed a weak chuckle before coughing again.

Josh held his shoulders. "Shhh, hush. No, wait, keep talking."

"You trying to kill me faster?"

"God, when I said keep talking, I didn't mean like that. Just keep talking. . .I don't . . .god, Sam, I'm sorry. . ."

"Don't . . .get all. . . mushy on me. . ."

"Dammit. . ." Josh threw his arms around Sam as he started coughing once again, each one wracking his body in a painful spasm. He pulled Sam close to his side, bracing him.

"God. . .that hurts. . ."

"I know." Josh sighed, his arm around his friend.

Sam's breath quickened. Something was definitely wrong, terribly wrong. His vision swam before his eyes, and his fingers were numb. There was a tingling along his arms and face, like his whole body was going to sleep. "I'm cold."

"Lean into me."

"Something's wrong, I-I don't. . .I can't. . ."

Josh pulled him closer, feeling the clammy skin, seeing the pale tone of his usually overly healthy face, bracing against the tremors in his limbs and dabbing at the sheen of sweat that plastered his shirt to him. "Hang on. I'm here. Just, please god, just. . . hang on." Josh held him like one would hold a child.


	5. Chapter 5

Toby stared out over the street. He felt sick. The anger that had been keeping his fear in check was subsiding, and it was all he could do not to become consumed with worry. He'd continued to walk the streets for sometime, still questioning, still desperate, determined to do something besides sit around like everyone else on God's green earth seemed to be doing. Leo's promise of action left him irritable and wanting. People shouldered past and he tried not to grab out, clench their shoulders, shake them until their teeth rattled to their ankles and ask what kind of government would allow this to happen and not give a fuck. He turned to the small sidewalk café behind him and caught sight of a news paper abandoned on a table. With apologetic nods to the patrons he shoved past the tables and picked it up, staring at a small article in the corner: DIABLOS TO RETURN The article went on to describe the events and background of a military man, facts that Toby knew, and he swallowed as events started to fall into place. He jumped as his phone rang.

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The shadows deepened in the corners, making the room appear larger than it was; pulling the walls away from them in a floating limbo state. Josh's head was back against the wall. Sam's head was in his lap. Hours had passed and Sam had stopped talking. But not Josh. He kept on, discussing the latest congressional debates, his feelings for Amy that confused him, and then some, and wondered aloud who was going to take the pennant. He tried to ignore the fact that his friend's breathing had become shallow, that his skin was pinched and dry, his eyes hollow. He'd never seen the effect of a rapidly spreading poison, and didn't want to think of the man having his life and vitality sucked from him, his body folding in on itself as it vanished. He knew there wasn't much time. He'd never accept it. "I never told you, but that. . .night. . .you know what night I mean, I heard you. They were wheeling me into the room, and you said, 'I'm here, Josh.' I heard you. I knew everyone was around me, I knew I was hurt and scared, and I heard your voice. Above everything else, I heard you. I guess that sounds sappy, but right now I don't care. You've been. . ." he took a deep breath and swallowed.

"You've been such a good friend. You don't deserve this. You're supposed to live in California and go surfing on the weekends and volunteer for a boy's club, teach them to play basketball. You know? Get married, have kids, grow old, write, but always keeping a finger on the political vein." He allowed himself a smile. "Can't get that out of you, I bet. Working at the White House. It stays with you, gets in your blood. The smell of the halls, that irritating golden glow of the State Room, the sickening blue of the press room, who designed all that? I don't remember." He glanced down, and saw that Sam's eyes were open, listening. "Your office is a pigsty, by the way." He felt the attempt at a chuckle. "Look, the point is you still have a lot to do, so don't crap out on me now. I didn't crap out on you after Rosslyn, and you don't dare crap out on me now, you hear me?" There was a faint nod as eyes closed, and something about the way they did threw Josh into a panic. "Sam. Sam?" The body stilled. Josh grabbed his shoulder. "Sam! Come on, dammit. I said don't crap out on me. You hear me? Goddammit, don't do this!" He lay Sam on his back and put his ear to his chest. No. . .okay. . .yeah. . .it was there, but so weak. . . "Breathe for me. Come on. Do it. In. . .out. . .in. . .out. . .come on! I'm not doing this by myself, I'll hyperventilate, and I doubt you're in the position to pull me out it so come on. In. . .out. . .in. . .out. . ." he kept on, coaxing him, talking to him, holding him as the shadows lengthened. . . .

The morning came too bright, too cheery, too everything. Josh groaned and raised his head. There was a heavy weight on his legs. He looked down and saw blood spattered on the ground. "Sam?" He was afraid to move, afraid to draw a breath. The stillness closed in around him, soaked through him, numbed him; the sudden pain in his chest was as unbearable as the feeling of emptiness. A million thoughts crashed in on him at once, life without Sam, the White House without Sam. . .this wasn't happening, it wasn't happeningitwasnthappeningitwasnt. . . "Oh-oh god," he whispered, and his hand hovered over the body, waiting. . .and he heard a sound, a sound that made him gasp and lay back with his eyes closed, then opened his throat and jerked out pure, delighted laughter.

Sam was snoring.

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"Josh? Wake up."

The whisper was right in his ear. Josh twitched and his side clenched in a spasm. He jerked awake. "Sam?"

"You're on my leg. Get off."

Josh jumped up and leaned over his friend. "Sam! Wh-are you. . .wait, don't move!"

"Couldn't if I wanted to." Sam's voice was as weak as his body. Turning his head was an effort.

"Hang on, I gotta, ha-hang on." Josh scrambled to where the food and drink had been left, never touched. There was barely enough water in the jug to fill a small cup. He sniffed it, then touched a dab to his lips, tasting carefully, and rushed over and set it down beside Sam. He carefully lifted the man's head. "Okay, here. Drink this, nonono . . .it's water! It's water, come on. . .that's it. . .easyeasyeasy! Slow down! Shit. . ." he set the jug down and turned Sam on his side as he coughed up what water he was able to take. "Come on, you gotta hold it down, you threw up your insides."

"Probably why. . . not staying. . .nothing to hold it."

"Oh, ha-ha. The tears are rolling." And he did feel like crying. It surprised him.

Josh gently lay Sam back to the ground. He looked around, then sighed and tore the bottom of his shirt and used the fragment of material to wipe Sam's face. "Look, next time you nearly die, try not to sweat so much, huh? And the babbling, I thought I'd never shut you up. Some of the things you said. . ." he stopped as he was fixed with a blue fevered gaze. "You okay?"

"You heard me?"

"Huh?"

"You said you heard me. When you were in the hospital."

"OH! Yeah, yeah, I did." Josh lowered his gaze. "You heard that?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Look, this conversation. . .what is it?"

"Oh god," Sam groaned and tried to roll back over on his side away from Josh. "Cramp." His sides and stomach ached from the constant retching, his muscles strained beyond normal use. But it wasn't just that. He could remember the black panic he felt when he was held down, the crushing weight, realizing there was no way out of it, and the liquid poured into his mouth, he could remember his friend's desperate yells as a dangerous roar in his ears. The anger in those yells, the grief. . .he closed his eyes, forcing the sound out. He remembered. . . "Josh. . . why didn't I die?"

Josh gave it some thought, his brow furrowed. "I don't know. Maybe that stuff wasn't as lethal as we thought. I think they wanted to scare us."

"Again?"

"Yeah."

"Good job."

"Yeah."

"I feel like shit."

"You're dehydrated," Josh explained gently. "But I think you got all that crap out of your system."

Sam sighed quietly and curled in on himself. "I can't take much more of this, Josh," he confessed in a light whisper. "I can't. We gotta get out of here."

"I know." Josh rubbed Sam's arm and leaned back. "But right now you're not going anywhere."

"Deja Vu."

"No kidding. Go to sleep." He didn't have to say it twice. The sound of Sam's snores made him smile and lulled him back into a dream state.

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"I'm telling you, Leo. This Diablos person is behind the kidnapping. That's why they're so caught up in their own affairs, and it explains why they suddenly have warring factions." He glanced around at the crowds of people shuffling past, totally oblivious to what was happening. "I don't trust that inspector either." Toby walked back to the hotel, adrenaline propelling him double-speed.

"Toby," Leo's voice was full of warning, "I can't do anything. Not yet. I've notified the authorities and they are doing what they can, in fact an agent should be there shortly before they lock down the airports. His name is Rayns and he has your room number, so go wait for him. That's all we can do now without more to go on!"

"This is insane."

"I know. But our hands are tied. Unless there is proof that they've been taken by these factions we have to assume they are stuck in the local bar. Never mind bringing Diablos into this."

"We're well over forty-eight hours, Leo! How many people disappear in a bar for that long?"

"I know!" Leo yelled back. Toby could hear a sigh as he tried to regain control. "It's a tourist place, Toby. They just now have justification to start a search."

"Which they aren't following because of this pending lock down! I mean, who the hell puts a tourist spot between two warring factions?"

"They've been dormant for the past twenty years. No one expected any conflict, and I'm willing to bet these factions are merely kids trying to get their kicks. Both governments have come forward in their support and both have agreed to cooperate in any way possible."

"They're not getting their kicks, Leo. These kids are either bucking up against Diablos, or he's getting ready for something."

"Toby, what paper did you read?"

"I'm. . .not saying." He didn't want to admit it was the local equivalent of a tabloid.

"Right. Toby, you do realize if Diablos took action we would know about it, especially after this past year?"

"Leo, we LOST him for nine months! For all we know he's been here the entire time! Now how about sending someone to help, only don't send them here, I'll meet them at the border."

"Toby, if you'd just shut up and let me talk. . ."

There was a heavy sigh. "Yeah, sure, sorry."

"We have agents on the way. Once Rayns arrives you are to travel to the north border, understand? Rayns knows where to go."

"Leo, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Just. . . don't be a hero. You're still due out on a plane asap. Just tell these guys what you know and get the hell outta dodge, will ya? We need you here, your time is up."

"Got it Leo, thanks."

"Toby? It'll be okay."

"Yeah." Toby clicked his phone shut, squared his shoulders, and headed back inside the hotel.

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Josh was used to the door banging open and being pulled out. He was used to the questions, the hits, the threats. He had watched twice as his friend faced death.

He was numb.

And this time when they pulled him out and pushed him into the other building he didn't fight, didn't struggle. He'd just patted Sam's arm who tried to protest, tried weakly to pull Josh back, but could only watch as his friend was tugged away. Even that no longer angered him. His thoughts were marred by pain and fear. He honestly wanted to die, and wanted Sam to die with him, rather than go though this any longer. He was walked into the room and was sat in a chair, his hands bound to either side of the seat, and he was left there. Alone.

He didn't hear voices. He heard nothing but the stillness of the hot air and knew the trees and plants around him were sweating in the heat. He was lethargic, ill, incoherent. The lack of good water was taking its toll, and even more so on Sam. The man wasn't able to re-hydrate after his sickness, and what he could keep down was sweating away, just like everything else. He expected to peek outside one day and see green running and dripping against the blue sky, marring the colors, blending into a dark hell. His head fell back and he jerked it aright, twisting his wrists against the rope, feeling the sharp barbs poke the tender skin. And he sat.

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"We have something." It was probably the best greeting Toby could have heard under the circumstances, introductions be damned. Rayns walked into his room, and sounded as excited as Toby suddenly felt.

"Nice to meet you. Well?" Toby closed the door behind them and watched as Rayns walked to the small table in his room and whipped out some papers.

"I've had sources investigating the situation here for some time, expecting a coup of sorts. Turns out these factions are planning an attack, and I think your friends are caught in the crossfire."

"What sources? And where are they?" Toby leaned his hand on the table in his room, then backed away as Rayns stood and handed him a paper. Toby eyed it, then studied it closely. "This-it-is this Josh?"

"You tell me."

"I think so, yes, what is he doing. . . oh my god." Toby scrubbed a hand over his face and tossed the photo back on the table, feeling ill.

"This picture was taken yesterday. They are alive, though whether they are in good health remains to be seen."

Toby jabbed the picture his finger. "Who-who are these people?" He turned, then rounded on Rayns. "What the hell are they doing? What do they want?"

"Guns."

"Guns." Toby gave a sarcastic laugh. "I'm sorry, they kidnap a communications officer. . .to negotiate for guns. . ." he sighed in realization and backed away.

"Actually I believe Mr. Lyman was going to negotiate. Mr. Seaborn was insurance."

Toby was staring. "I don't like the way that sounds."

"If Mr. Lyman doesn't comply. . ."

"Okayokayokay I get it." Toby raised his hand and sighed in frustration, walking over to his window and looking out. "I am never letting Sam pick a vacation spot again. Never."

"With all due respect, you can't blame Mr. Seaborn for this. This area has been growing in tourism for the past eight years. There has never been an incident, nor a cause for one."

"And yet you patrol the borders?"

"Only recently."

"I say that has an effect on tourism."

"I dare say you're right." Rayns jumped as Toby angrily slammed his hand against the wall. "Mr. Ziegler. . ."

"Toby. And the other two are Josh and Sam, if you're going to save their asses may as well get informal about it. If nothing else it saves the syllable count."

"Toby, I have to meet the patrol on the border, and we are going to get your friends. Now I need you here. . ."

"I'm coming with you."

". . .to be a liaison in case something goes wrong. . ."

"Get someone else. I'm coming."

"You can't." Rayns actually sounded sympathetic.

"Dammit, don't you think they want to see a familiar face when this is done? I'm not staying here by the phone, I'm going to make sure you yahoos get the job done! You got that?"

"Toby, your flight is due out. . ."

"Fuck the goddamn flight!" Toby was face to face with Rayns. "My friends are out there. I'm coming."

Rayns chewed the inside of his cheek, then nodded. Toby let out his breath as Rayns made a phone call. "Get your things, whatever needs to be loaded in the van. We're outta here in ten."


	6. Chapter 6

Note: There are small bursts of action in this chapter. It was written this way intentionally. To those that have commented, thank you!! To those reading, thank you as well!!

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The room was dark. Josh was numb from having sat for so long. He was crazy with boredom in so far as he was conscious of it. He tried not to start as the door swung open, tried not to stare as Sam was dragged in by his arms and laid directly in front of him. Josh said nothing, just watched as the body was turned over, as Sam met his eyes and slowly took in the chair and the bonds. He barely shook his head, unable to manage any other motion. His eyes said it all, but they also betrayed the pain and fatigue, and the desire to end it all. Something about that look tore into Josh's gut and twisted it. Sam wasn't one to give up. He was the optimist while Josh himself was the cynic. Sam wasn't thinking straight, that had to be it, or either he wasn't, because he had been on the verge of giving in himself. That angered him, and he raised his head. "What games now?"

"Your last chance. You will negotiate."

"I don't even know what I'm negotiating."

"We do not want war. It was brought here."

Josh frowned. "You. . .don't want war, yet you want a weapons exchange. . .and you treat us like this. . .are you insane?"

The man snarled and yanked Sam's head up by his hair. "You wish to see more?"

"I don't think he even feels it anymore." The truth in that statement disturbed him.

Sam looked up at him, his eyes tight with pain. He closed them, and went limp.

Josh tried to lean forward in his chair. Before he could say anything Sam lashed out with his leg, tripping the man who held him to the ground. He jumped to his feet and felled another with a blow to the stomach before stumbling into the wall. There were shouts from outside as the first man rose and flew at him, but Sam had a weapon, the rifle that had been dropped during the scuffle, and he swung the butt of the gun against the man's cheek with a yell, then did the same with the two that entered. Then he collapsed.

Josh was wide-eyed. "Sam!" He strained forward, "Sam, get up!" He was terrified the man had passed out, but Sam managed to push himself up and crawl over to Josh. "How the hell. . .no, I don't care. . .let's just get outta here."

"Working on it," Sam gasped as his vision blurred. He worried at the knot as Josh asked,

"Where are the others?"

"Gone. Dunno."

"Almost there, comeoncomeoncomeon. . ."

"Shut up, Josh." He blinked rapidly and fell to one hip.

"No! Nonono, wait, I swear I'll carry you outta here, but you gotta untie me first! You're almost there, focus. . ." Sam hid a groan and pulled one final time at the rope before collapsing. It was enough, and Josh instantly set to work on the other hand, flinging the ropes aside and kneeling beside Sam. "Sam!" Josh felt his forehead and threaded his arms under his friend's. "Let's go. There you go, up up, you sure no one's out there?"

"Didn't. . .see. . ."

"Okay, let's go before these goons wake up. Dunno how you found the strength to do that, man."

"Me either. Don't make me do it again."

"Desperation works well for you. See if you can get a bit more up, huh? Got a long way to go, I bet." They peeked out of the hut and bolted into the jungle behind them.

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The jeeps skidded to a stop. Rayns barked out orders and several armed men filed out, disappearing into the brush. Several more jeeps roared into view behind them as they saw the soldiers safely away, then took off to the next drop off point.

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The man with the bandana flicked the cigarette from his fingers, watching the red arch it carved through the air. He blew the smoke, and as it hung in the moisture, he bent over the map. No recovery. It was as though the prisoners had been swallowed by the jungle, which was quite probable. Suddenly his lieutenant ran up to him, frantic, and started spilling word after word in rapid-fire speech, his eyes wide. Leather-face straightened and cast a wary glance to the foliage, and he realized the escaped men was now the least of his worries. He quickly called back his men and sent the lieutenant to fetch the bands searching in the jungle. His eyes tightened and he lit another cigarette.

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"WAIT, wait, I gotta stop. . ." Sam pulled away from Josh and collapsed onto a tree, hugging the rough bark before sliding down into a heap at its base.

Josh nodded, too winded to say anything, and sat on one of the massive unearthed roots. He was surprised Sam had come so far without a rest, and decided fear and adrenaline was the driving force that pushed them to the brink of exhaustion. They still had no firm direction. There were no longer sounds of pursuit, although the men knew they were looking, they had to be looking, no one would just let their prisoners go and not look for them. The word 'prisoners' suddenly caught hold in his mind like a cancer, and he couldn't rid himself of it. They weren't supposed to be, or have been, prisoners. That game was for the elite forces, the people who were trained what to do under extenuating circumstances. They worked at the White House, for Christ's sake. They debated and yelled a lot and drank gallons of coffee and ate salads for lunch. They went to the gym and had a beer and a burger brought in for dinner, or Chinese, or a pizza. Instead of wearing their hearts on their sleeves they wore ink stains, instead of breakfast in bed they had drool spots on their desks. Alarms clocks didn't mean morning, it meant 'hey bucko, you had your two hours now get out of that chair and get your ass in gear', during which time they were trying desperately to remember what draft bill was what and who signed what and what was what without a who anywhere beside it, which who needed to be beside it, and for what reason. It took special people to make sense of all that, never mind figure out what to do about it. Being prisoners in a jungle didn't even enter into the equation. "Dammit," Josh muttered, "I'm a pencil pusher."

Sam was braced on his knees after experimentally trying to stand again. His gaze cut through hair spiked with sweat. "What?"

"I'm a freaking pencil pusher! I don't belong here!"

"Very astute, Josh, glad to see you're thinking clearly." Sam managed to set his back against the bark as he caught his breath. He felt he'd left his head behind him somewhere, and he wasn't too certain his arms were totally with him. One thing was for sure, they'd taken out his lungs and replaced them with iron rods that stabbed him every time he tried to take in a breath.

"I'm just sayin'. . .oh, never mind."

"Okay."

"No, really. . .it's just absurd."

"No, what's absurd is your sudden realization that this situation is absurd. But better late than never." Sam slid back down to a seated position.

"Remind me never to get kidnaped with you again."

"Okay."

Josh coughed, which caught Sam's attention, and he waved it away. "Um, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"What's that over there?" He slowly pointed to a large, green, moving. . .thing, something he was certain shouldn't be moving.

Sam raised his head, and allowed a small smile to play on his lips. "A monitor lizard."

"A what. . .JESUS CHRIST!" Josh was on his feet and trying his hardest to scramble up the tree as a huge, six foot lizard slid from the leaves and flicked its tongue at them.

Sam had frozen, not really afraid, but tense. Actually, the sight of Josh trying to climb the tree without the proper aid of branches was enough to make him laugh out loud, but that. . .wasn't a good idea. The lizard flicked its tongue again, tasting the air, and slowly rambled on.

Josh was panting even more than when they'd finished their last sprint. "Holy. . .cow. . ."

"Lizard."

"I thought it was gonna eat us!"

"Yeah, and I saw you were so concerned for my safety that you pulled me up the tree with you."

"What? You said what?"

Sam chuckled. "Never mind." He winced and doubled over, and straightened slowly. "Let's get going."

Josh nodded. "Yeah, after you, lizard man."

"Just call me lizard hunter, mate," Sam teased, and headed on, trying not to let on that the trees kept closing his vision, haunting him with their darkness. . . .

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All of the soldiers had been deployed, such as they were. Toby sat quietly in the jeep as Rayns communicated to the trackers on the radio, studying the map, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Got another one of those?"

Ryans lifted his head and dug in his pocket. "Take what's left, I got another pack."

"Thanks." Toby flipped one out and, using Rayns' lighter, burnt the end to an orange flame, inhaled deeply, and exhaled in an impatient sigh. His stomach was turning and tying itself in knots. He tried his hardest not to bounce his leg, and wanted nothing more than to get out of the jeep and pace.

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"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Go through this and act as though nothing has happened. When this is over I plan on scheduling a nervous breakdown, and Donna had better find a way to fit that into the schedule, cause its happening."

"You don't think one breakdown is enough?"

"I'm serious."

"I'm breaking down on the inside."

"No," Josh studied him, "you're just damn good under stress."

"I've had worse," Sam snorted. "These people don't know how to torture. Watch Toby sometime, dressing me down for not crossing my T's, making me rewrite four paragraphs I've already spent hours on. That's torture."

"You use a laptop. You don't have to cross your T's."

"A weapons exchange? What made them think you could negotiate a weapon's exchange?"

Josh shrugged. "I've done worse."

"What were they going to exchange for it?"

"I dunno, never got that far."

"Hope it wasn't us. Being passed from one country to another, human barter. . ."

"Be a great way to travel. Always said you don't get out enough."

"Is it possible there's a war going on that we don't know about?" Josh looked at him, incredulous. "You're right. What was I thinking."

"These are kids," Josh said. "They don't know what they're doing."

"Could've fooled me."

"They don't have a clue."

"And this makes me feel a lot better about their getting weapons. Besides, I think they're older than you think they are."

"Possibly."

Sam stared up at the thick canopy overhead. "We have no idea where we are, do we?"

"Well," Josh shifted and pointed to his right, "we came from that way," he pointed to his left, "so I think we should go that way." He suddenly whipped his head around. "You know, actually I think we should go this way, right now." He grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him back. The foliage behind them disguised a slight slope and they skidded down, ducking amongst the leaves.

"What the. . ."

"Shhh!"

"Josh. . ."

"For god's sake SHUT UP!"

Sam gave his head a shake, something he did too frequently, and it worried Josh as much as the crusted gash on his head did. They waited in silence. It was Sam who hissed and pushed Josh further into the foliage as the sounds of voices crept into the air, followed by the rustle of leaves being swiped aside. The two men crouched low.

Rapid speech shot over their heads like gunfire, each voice angry and tense. They kept their eyes to the ground, not daring to look up, to move, to breathe. The voices continued and a machete whistled through the air with a deadly sigh, half a foot above them. The cuttings floated around them, covered them, and it was a lucky thing that the man turned after he swung, allowing Sam and Josh to bury in further into the slope. The men hovered, looking around, sharp phrases slicing through the heat as other soldiers stood with weapons draped across their shoulders, or braced by their sides. If either Sam or Josh had bothered to look up, they would have seen that these soldiers were different, that the gleam in their eyes was more mature, more confident, more serious. The group moved on, not looking for two escapees, but caught up in their own game of cat and mouse, looking for kids with guns, forming their own plan of attack.

Josh hazard a peek as they moved on, catching only the movement of leaves closing around the retreating backs. "Close call."

"Too close." Sam raised his head and wiped sweat from his eyes with a dirt-streaked hand. "They must be circling, I think they're heading back to the shack," he said, mistakenly.

"So we go that way then." Josh nodded a direction and looked to Sam for confirmation. At his nod he patted the younger man's shoulder and rose hesitantly, feeling Sam at his elbow. "Looks good."

Sam nodded and rubbed his palms on his jeans. He clasped Josh's shoulder and hauled himself onto the makeshift path, and headed for help.

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Rayns skidded the Jeep to a stop and leaned out, signaling to the men behind them. They instantly shouldered their weapons and spread into the jungle like ants leaving their mound. Toby grabbed hold of the top bar to swing himself out but Rayns pressed him back. "Do NOT move from this spot, I don't care what happens. Stay put." He surveyed the area, and ducked as nearby fire punctuated his worry. Toby cursed and buried himself between the seat and dash board.

"Stay here!" Rayns disappeared into the foliage as the gunfire stopped as quickly as it began. Toby crouched, breathing heavily and cursing everyone one he could think of, including Sam and Josh. He waited for what seemed an eternity and ventured to peek over the dash. Nothing. Not even the air stirred. Sweat dripped into his eyes. Slowly he crawled out, remaining in a crouch, and looked around him. The ground spat as bullets tore at it, and he dove into the jungle.

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Rayns ran with men behind him, darting in and out of bushes and branches and roots, slipping along the surface. He wiped webs from his face, trying not to think of the massive size of spiders that would have created them. Hell, he thought out here the spiders were underground. It made him wonder idly just what he kept running into, and he pushed the thought from his head as he hit the deck.

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Toby was hopelessly lost. He ducked and crawled, his legs aching and screaming, wanting to scream himself at the pain and desperation and absurdity of the Communications Director belly-wriggling along a jungle floor. Shots fired as they had done for eternity. He covered his head, then yelled as a figure literally crashed over him and hid in the foliage just ahead of him.

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Josh fell to the ground, his head buried beneath his hands as the air above him exploded in gunfire. He managed to find a way to squirm into the brush behind him that way, without looking up, just frantically working his knees and legs to pull himself back. His hearing was shattered as his nerves bent to the will of those holding the weapons. It was the last straw. He had no more gumption to fight or flee, he just wanted the ground to suck him in. He didn't even wonder where Sam was. It was the last thing on his mind and the dirt sprayed up around him, bullets pummeling everything but his body. He drove himself backwards, roots grabbing his legs and rubbing his knees raw. The air ripped open with the sounds of retaliatory gunfire, a higher pitched sound, and suddenly the bullets no longer hunted for him but for the opposition. It was enough of a change to make him raise his head and look around, but when new shouts and weapons were heard he buried his head again. Too many shots, that meant an increased chance of getting hit. But in the back of his mind he was wondering, calculating, the first shots were from the men in pursuit, the second, judging from the panicked shouts, were the opposing faction. But now, now the shots sounded clearer for some reason, different, and he realized that they were coming from a different direction and not closing in. A body came into view and fell before him, it was the first he'd seen since the shooting began. It jerked his brain from the fog, and his head shot up as he looked for Sam. A spray of bullets sent him ducking for cover once again, and he felt the last thing he ever wanted to feel. . .a hand on his shoulder. He rolled away, grabbing at a huge branch and aiming for the head of. . . "Toby?"

"Shh!"

"What the hell!" The stick fell from his hand.

"Shut up, willya? Rayns'll have my ass as it is, I was supposed to stay in the jeep, come on." Toby started to back though the bramble, one hand lingering on Josh's ankle. "Vacation my ass. I've had more fun writing speeches on eighteen reasons why we should save the lined dinner mole from extinction." He stopped as Josh pulled away.

"Wait." Josh was breathing hard and looking at Toby like he'd just announced he was running for the presidency. He wiped a hand over his face and started shaking, looking to his previous position and back to Toby with the utmost confusion.

Toby pressed his lips. He could recognize shock when faced with it. "Josh. We have to go. You have to trust me, we can't stay here."

"Sam?"

"I-I don't know, but we've gotta go. This place is full of guns and we've got guys out here, they'll find him."

"Toby, how. . ."

Toby shook his head. "No, not now." He grabbed Josh's arm and forced the man to meet his eyes, his clear, stern look snapping sense back into the frightened man. He held the gaze until Josh nodded and voluntary followed him. They scrambled for a short distance as the gunfire scattered and spread, then stood and ran to the jeeps, where Toby collapsed against the hood, gasping for breath. Josh joined him, and jumped as a tall man approached.

"Dammit, Ziegler! What did I say?"

Toby straightened and pointed to Josh. "Josh Lyman, meet Rayns." Josh extended a hand, still only semi-coherent, and jumped as Rayns merely hissed and pushed him to the back of the jeep.

"Are you okay? Are you injured?"

"What, now or over the past few days?" Josh sank against the back of the jeep with Toby firm at his side.

"Where is the other one?"

"The other one," Toby said firmly, "has a name, Sam Seaborn, my deputy, and if I'd of brought him back as well."

Rayns looked at Josh. "You were separated?" Josh met the question with a desperate tiredness in his eyes. "Okay. Stay here, is he injured in any way?"

"He's. . .weak. . .been ill. . ."

"Okay." Rayns patted Josh on the shoulder and merely glared at Toby, who sank to the ground beside Josh and pulled out a canteen. As he hurried off, Toby turned to Josh and caught him as he slid sideways to the ground.

"Okay, Josh, easy, you're okay now." He braced him, holding the canteen to his lips. He took in the bruises, the cuts, the pale face. The rope burns on his wrists. He took in all in with a glance that made him ill with rage. Josh drank slowly, not even having the strength to swallow. He went limp in Toby's arms.


	7. Chapter 7

Rayns knew his chances were diminishing. The sounds of gunfire had ceased, and now there was no sounds at all, other than the shuffling of soldiers in the brush. There was no sign of the Seaborn. There was no sign of anyone, just bullet-ridden bodies that littered the ground, looking like a scene from an old war movie or a nineteen twenties mob flick. The air was still, at least the shots had stirred the air a bit, but now it was as still as the bodies around him. Rayns wiped sweat from his brow and crouched, taking in his surroundings, listening carefully, signaling for the men closest to him to stay in place. He sensed something. His years in the military had sharpened his senses to razor-like clarity, and something was out there. Moving. Barely. Breathing in quiet gasps. The body was drenched, the clothes torn and clinging to bones. Rayns took a few steps forward and knelt close, putting his ear to the man's open mouth. A hand grabbed him.

"Water."

Rayns snatched his hand away and regarded the pleading face that stared up at him. The boy was the same age as his son. He looked malnourished, his thin muscles hardly covering the small frame. Pending death glazed his eyes. There was a faint sense of panic, like the boy knew he was dying and knew there was nothing to be done. Rayns pulled his canteen from his belt and carefully poured the liquid into the young man's mouth. Water sprayed as the man sputtered, and dark eyes closed in on Rayns.

Rayns capped the canteen. "Can you talk?" There was no blink, only that persistent stare. "There was a man, short dark hair, Caucasian. You seen him?" There was no movement, only that stare. Rayns clenched his jaw, dying or not, he had no patience for this. "I know you understand me. Where is the American?"

"Diablos."

"Diablos? Fernando?" This wasn't good.

"Amelican ran. Diablos found him." The boy spoke haggardly, his chest rising painfully.

"Diablos has the American?" Rayns held the man's shoulder. "You're sure?"

"Si."

"Where did they go?"

"Left here. . .few minutes ago. . ." the boy pointed to a large tree that nearly obscured a thin path, "old ways. . .gone to negotiate."

"Negotiate what?"

"Life of man." The boy sighed as his eyes closed. Rayns leaned in, his breathing had shallowed. He gave the boy a pat on the arm and stood, signaling once again to the men that hide among the trees, and stalked Diablos.

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Toby and Josh heard the crackle of a radio in the Jeep. Pressing Josh to stay still, Toby leaned in across the front seat. He heard the spits and hisses and voices trying to force through. He heard reference to "the American Seaborn" followed by a name that sent a chill through him, "Diablos."

"Oh my god. I was right."

"Toby?"

"Diablos has Sam."

"What?"

Toby turned to the man that now stood behind him. "I said Diablos has Sam. Some kid saw them go through the jungle." His voice was tight.

Josh sank against the Jeep. "Diablos? The Diablos that I think. . ._Diablos_? _That_ Diablos?" He hesitated as the name sunk in. "They don't know where he went?"

"They're looking, I dunno, they're looking." Toby pulled his hand along his face, stretching it in a tired expression. "Josh, there are only five of our men left, that I've seen. Five men will never be able to search this area, and I'll be damned if I'm going to just sit here." His stern gaze caught Josh off guard.

"Toby. . .we don't know where to go, we have no weapons."

"They mentioned a shack. Mean anything to you?"

"We were held in a shack. God, you mean the faction these kids were going after were Diablos' people?"

Toby nodded and started to rummage through the Jeep. "It's a lot of idealism. These kids got in it their mind that they could start something and attract his attention by attacking what they call his 'outskirt warriors'. This isn't a war, hardly an insurrection, just kids getting their kicks and trying to become men way too early." He found an abandoned pack and sorted through it.

"Diablos tried to cut the legs out from under these kids."

"I'd say he did just that."

"Then what does he want with Sam?"

"A bomb? Hell, I don't know! I just know that I can't, and I'm not, going to sit here."

"We aren't trained for this."

"I know." Toby continued his search and found what he was looking for, a small gun with three bullets.

Josh stood before him. "We aren't trained for this," he said softly.

"I know." Toby pocketed the gun. "Can you find the shack?"

"If you can get me back to the place where you found me. Toby, why would he go to the shack?"

"If that's where he was originally headed, that's where he'd go."

"And you know this how?"

"I don't. But apparently they do." Toby nodded at the radio. "Coming?"

Josh hesitated, then nodded.

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Sam was beyond caring. He was beyond pain, beyond coherency, beyond every extreme of physical concern. The rough hand stayed on his shoulder, the gun poked at his back, and he didn't have the strength to argue. Not to mention any attempt to escape would be countered by the gunmen on either side of Diablos. He couldn't even remember how he got into the situation, he just knew that one moment there was gunfire and yells, he knew he lost Josh, then after taking cover for a short while he felt himself being tugged backwards, felt a gun to his temple, saw a leering face over his. He could remember an insane relief, this man wasn't one of his original captors. They had walked quite a ways before the name Diablos was spoken, and with that one word his stomach plummeted. He knew the man was a former operative in Vietnam. He knew that every guerilla fighter relished the name, he knew that Diablos's escapades were near legend in many lesser countries. He also knew that Diablos had been exiled. It was a dangerous combination. It was surreal that the man who held him was the same man he'd read about in a briefing report only two weeks earlier. He was way out of his territory. Way out.

Sam stumbled and fell, his legs refusing to go any further. He heard cursing, felt himself being dragged to his feet. His legs didn't respond. Nothing did, and he collapsed into a limp heap, not caring if he were to be shot, because that was preferable to trying to continue. Half-phrases floated over his head, the occasional word falling to his ear but not making sense. He felt himself lifted, then flung over a shoulder, and was carried. At this point he allowed himself to pass out.

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"Toby, someone's coming."

"Then hush!"

"Toby. . ."

The larger man threw his hand over Josh's mouth and pulled him back into the brush. "When I say hush, I mean it, dammit!" He felt Josh nod and slowly released him while peering around the base of a large tree. It was an odd sort, the limbs and leaves hanging droopily to the ground, and provided excellent cover. The two men crouched for some time before hearing a sound, chatter, soft talking. What's more, it was familiar. Toby stood and walked out hesitantly, then rolled his eyes as his name was shouted.

"Zeigler! What the hell. . .in the name of. . ." Rayns didn't seem sure which oath would best suit the purpose. "Are you _trying _to wreck this mission?"

"For what it's worth, I advised him against it," Josh said, coming around the tree.

Rayns threw his hands into the air and cursed. "Shhiiit! –I don't believe this. I had green beret days less aggravating than this!"

"Josh knows where the shack is," Toby said quietly and pointedly.

Rayns stood limply, trying to ignore the mental scenarios of the President of the United States chewing his ass. "Wait, you were there. They held you in a shack?"

"Yeah, it was. . .not pleasant. I think I can get us back there." His voice was uncharacteristically small.

Rayns weighed the options and curse inwardly. "We lost several men. You're probably safer with us here than back at the Jeep." He released his gun and gestured harshly at the men. "You do what I say when I say it. You bring up the rear. When I say down, you hit the deck, when I say stay, you stay put. I want you invisible, I don't want to even think about you, much less see your ass. Got that?"

"Charming, isn't he?" Toby muttered as he nodded, recognizing that they were now in a situation that not only went way above their heads, but one which could kill them without a second thought. After all, they had their titles. But it was all they had. And while their titles may have offered protection in the States, out here it was meaningless. Not only that, but it could backfire on them.

He and Josh stayed close, neither talking, each carefully following the other men as they pressed on. Josh was trying not to come up with scenarios of torture that Sam could be facing at that moment. After everything the man had been though, how much more could he take? He glanced at Toby and saw the determination in his set jaw, his glinting eyes. The man was pissed. Plain pissed. His deputy was in the grip of a man he'd only read about, and never wanted anything to do with. Josh knew the two shared a special bond, and it was good to see. Josh had often felt that he and Sam were straying a bit, things had been so darn busy, they never went out. Sam's duties naturally took him to Toby, and Josh's seemed to take him everywhere else.

There were also so many times when Sam wasn't in his office, and Josh found himself talking to Toby more and more. The man wasn't that much older than him, but his whole demeanor gave an aura of knowing better, of a higher intelligence that should be mined. So Josh started going to him for advice. And he could see why Sam had started confiding in the man.

For one, Toby could hold a secret like nobody else. Maybe because he didn't trust people enough to really let them in; he wasn't prone to gossip, and there was no cause to let a secret slip. It was said that the best way to keep a secret was to forget about it, and Toby was the master of that. At first it seemed that he didn't care, but once reminded he was quick to listen and offer his advice in that no nonsense way he had. Leo had his ear. Josh wouldn't be surprised if to some extent the President had it as well. But the one who used it the most was Sam, and while Josh might feel a bit of jealousy at first, deep down he honestly felt glad that his old friend had found someone else to trust. The whole of the senior staff had become good friends, but it wasn't as evident in any new relationship than in the friendship between Toby and Sam. They were loyal. They bickered and bantered like brothers. And looking at Toby now, seeing the hard expression, Josh suddenly feared for Diablos. Because Toby wasn't one to be crossed, especially when the life of a friend was on the line. Josh had found that out himself when he had been shot. And he wasn't even as close a friend. . . .

The path turned and Rayns waved everybody down. Josh hardly had time to think before bullets packed the ground at his feet. He felt Toby pull him back and threw his hands to his ears as the return fire pounded away. He buried back against the man, feeling Toby hold him down while covering his own ass. "Dammit!" Toby's curse flew through the air as he went for the gun he'd found in the Jeep before remembering that it held only three bullets. "Josh, wait, look, is that it?" Josh looked up and saw a long finger pointed to a worn hub of a building.

"Yes!" Josh lunged ahead, then kissed the dirt as Toby pulled him down.

"You wanna wait a minute?"

"No time! Sam's in there!"

"And bullets are out here! Let Rayns go in."

"No."

"Josh. . ."

"He's a little busy right now, Toby, you wanna give me your gun or not?"

Toby practically snarled. This was it, this was the turning point. Sensibilities be damned. "Fine, but we go together. We bring him back here. Got it?"

"Got it."

"I can't believe we're doing this." He pushed at Josh. "Go." The two men crouched low and headed towards the shack. The sounds of gunfire followed, and Toby could have sworn he heard another curse from Rayns. He didn't look back to see who had the upper hand, he just pushed Josh forwards until the were at the hut where Josh had been held during the "persuasions". The shack was fifty yards away. Toby looked back then tapped Josh on the shoulder. "You better be sure he's in there," he gasped, trying to rein in the fear he refused to exhibit.

Josh tried to steady his heart from the start that the absurdly normal gesture gave him. "That's where we were held."

"Okay." Toby glanced behind him. "Come on."

They ran to the shack in a crouch and opened the door. Toby balked at the stench and started to turn away, but Josh's shout pulled his attention to the figure on the floor. "Mother of God," he breathed. Josh was already kneeling beside Sam, cupping the man's face in his hands.

"Sam?" Toby had never heard such a note of panic in Josh's voice. He hurried to them and knelt down. The man looked terrible. His face was swollen, his eyes bruised. There was a long gash on his head, an old injury by the looks of it, but something that hadn't been treated. Big surprise. His hands were crusted and bloody, his shirt was stained with dark crimson. This alarmed him, and he tore the material open. Long cuts marred the skin, and there was an area. . .

"Shit, shitshitshitshit!" Toby tore the rest of Sam's shirt away and pressed it to the flow of blood. Josh had his undershirt off as well, and used it to tie the already soiled material tight to Sam's body.

"Toby. . ." his voice cracked.

"I don't know, I don't know," Toby's voice sounded faint as more gunfire sounded overhead. "He needs a doctor, he needs a hospital."

"Think I can get the Jeep here?"

"I think if you go out there you'll end up just like him." A low groan caught Toby's ear and he leaned in as Josh caught Sam's hand in his own. "Sam? Talk to me." Toby's voice was stern.

Sam's eyes opened and he licked his lips. He stared at Toby for some time before frowning and trying to lift his head. "Am I dreaming?"

"Sam, I'm here. Josh is here. We're gonna get you out."

"Josh," Sam's cloudy vision settled on his friend, and cleared. "You're okay. . .not shot. . ."

"We lost each other. Sam, I-I didn't know they'd taken you."

"But he was determined to come and get you." Toby sent Josh a look that silenced him.

"Thirsty."

"Thirsty, thirsty. . ." Toby looked around but the room offered nothing. He suddenly remembered his canteen. At that moment a bullet ripped through the door and created a knothole above Toby's head. "Son of a. .!"

Josh had ducked down. He grabbed Toby's gun from his belt. "Stay here."

"Three shots, Josh!"

"I know!" Josh took his place beside the door and waited, reminding himself that he was a damned pencil pusher. . .

Sam's breathing was labored. "Toby, what're you doin' here?"

"Getting you back for not calling me when you realized were going to be late."

"Sorry. You stayed, you looked for us?" The astonishment couldn't be missed.

"You think I'm going to write the dinner speech by myself?" Kind eyes smiled at him. A loud explosion made him duck, and he covered Sam's body with him own as debris rained down on the from where the roof had been. "Shit! Josh!"

"Here!" Josh coughed and waved away the dust. Another explosion and the whole building came down, such as it was.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rayns had Diablos in his sight. He knew the angle needed, one more moment and he could take the shot. . .a launcher appeared and aimed at the shack. Rayns fired right as the small rocket tore off the roof, troubling the foundation. Rayns watched helplessly as the building collapsed, then cried out as a shot took him in the arm. The next moment Diablos stood over him, his dark face eclipsing the sky. A gun was raised, then turned, then handed to Rayns. The soldier stared in disbelief as one of the most wanted and respected military men of his time knelt before him and asked for immunity.

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Toby coughed. He could feel Sam's body beneath him, but couldn't sit up, not yet. A heavy plank crossed his back. He was dizzy. He could tell the shack was gone, he could feel the difference in the air, a fresh hotness instead of a stuffy hotness. He called Josh's name, heard a voice, felt the planks shift around him. More voices joined him, and the weight was lifted. Hands pulled him back, and he was dimly aware of Sam being tended, and of Josh at his side, his head bleeding just above his eye. "Toby?"

"Peachy," the man grunted, his eyes falling back to Sam. "You?"

"Feel like a squashed grape." Josh sat beside Toby and watched. He heard the thump of helicopter blades over head as the rotors beat the air to a pulp. More people arrived, asking questions and checking his shoulder and back, while Josh's head was bandaged. Neither man took their eyes from Sam as he was patched and loaded. The military copter took off, and the thumping receded.

Rayns walked up to them, his arm in a sling. "The hospital's a good three hours drive from here. You up to it?"

"Yes." Josh's affirmative left no argument.

"I told you to stay put." Rayns smiled. "But you did good."

"Well I'm glad you think so, do I get a cookie for this?" Toby asked sarcastically. He stood stiffly, Josh taking hold of his arm as much to stabilize him as for his own support. They followed Rayns to the various vehicles that suddenly flanked the area. "Where the hell were all these people earlier?"

"My guess is once Diablos was mentioned it put a whole new light on the situation."

"And everyone took it seriously. Like it wasn't serious enough before?" Toby huffed. "Just get us to the damn hospital."

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Leo bounded into the Oval Office without knocking. He knew the President was alone, and at that moment he didn't give a damn about protocol. "They're safe."

Jed looked up, removing the glasses form his nose. "They're safe?"

"On the way to a hospital now. Military got news that Diablos was involved and sent in everything they had."

"Our military? Because I'm supposed to be involved in those decisions, right?"

"Apparently their government decided to take things seriously after all. Of course for all we know they'd been planning to take Diablos out for some time once they discovered he was hiding right under their noses. This could have been an elaborate set-up."

Jed had crossed the room and was pouring a drink for Leo. "How are they?" He didn't like that Leo looked pale, if the news were good he would be flushed. He handed the water to him and set him down, then sat across from him, elbows braced on his knees. Long shadows watched from the wall behind him; outside a security guard scuffed his shoe on the pavement.

Leo took a few swallows and rubbed his thumb on the glass. The glint along the edge mesmerized him, and he studied it. "Josh has severe lacerations and burns. Swollen eye, he was beaten repeatedly. Bruised ribs if not worse. He can move around but it hurts like hell."

"Beaten?" Jed's expression was dark.

"Tied to a chair, kept in a shack, little to eat or drink, the whole nine yards."

"And Sam?"

Leo squeezed the glass. "Sam." He shook his head and looked up, the shock on his face scaring Jed.

"No. . .no don't tell me. . .you said they were safe."

"Oh no, no sir, he-he's alive." Jed stood and rubbed his palms on his pants as he turned away. The words floated somewhere behind him. "He was – stabbed. He was beaten, possibly poisoned. He suffered from lack of food and water same as Josh. And there is possible head trauma."

"When will we know?" Jed's voice was still.

"They're stabilizing him. He's scheduled for surgery in one hour. Then we know. They've got the bleeding stopped, but he's lost. . ." Leo stood and tried his hardest not to slam the glass onto the table and looked to Jed's liquor cabinet. "I don't mind telling you, this is one of those times. . ."

Jed followed his gaze, and knew exactly what his oldest friend was thinking. "Don't you dare, Leo. Don't you do it." Jed turned sharply. "You didn't after Rosslyn, don't you dare do it now."

"I wasn't going to." Leo's voice was firm but calm. "I'm just saying, that's all." He shrugged it off, almost apologetically. "Rayns is going to be checked at the hospital as well, he was nicked in the arm, then he is to report to us. Toby will call as soon as they arrive."

"Toby's okay then?"

"Irritable, short-tempered, and sarcastic and bruised. He's fine."

"Others?"

"Nine dead. Six wounded, not including our two."

Jed lowered his head. There was silence for several minutes, then he asked, "So what's the deal with this Diablos? Immunity?"

Leo nodded. "He says he's tired of fighting. There was rumor of him in the area and some of the locals panicked, understandably. Turn out he holds many government secrets, not the smallest of which is the location of a nuclear weapons base." He nodded at Jed's surprise. "His government had exiled him, and now wants him dead, which I think is the real reason he wants immunity. He was running out of places to hide."

"Can't blame him I guess. I wonder if he feels any guilt for his crimes."

"They were carried out years ago in the name of his people." Leo shrugged. "Who knows."

"And this group that so foolishly kidnaped_ our_ people, what was their motive?"

"Oh, they knew where Diablos was hiding and thought they could take him out. They didn't have the fire power to do it, so they wanted to trade our people for weapons. They wanted to be the men to bring down a legend." Leo handed Jed his empty glass. "It never panned out. They didn't get the weapons they wanted, and Diablos appeared in the area sooner than expected. He caught wind of them, see, and went out to put a stop to it."

"He was going to kill them?"

"He was going to turn himself over to Josh and Sam."

"My god." Jed laughed. "Then why abduct Sam?"

"I don't think he found kids much of a threat, but he did have to tend to them. His government, as you know, was heavy on his heels. I think he was waiting for the opportune time."

"Did he stab Sam?"

"No. At least he says he didn't. And this so called plan these kids had to bring down Diablos actually allowed his escape."

"Incredible." Jed shook his head. "I bet those three go skiing next time."

"I bet they don't leave the White House next time."

Jed managed a chuckle. "Get the others in here


	8. Chapter 8

The hospital was too white. Too bright. Smelled too clean, yet his last memory forced him to sense the death and fear that was somewhere in those stark halls. Josh sat beside Sam's bed, watching him sleep, staring at the machines that hooked to other machines and to his friend, and he didn't have any idea what they did or what they were for. Every blip and beep made him want to jump and get the nurse, even though he knew Sam was going to be fine. The immense relief he had felt when the surgery was over put him on the floor, folded over his knees, and when he heard that Sam would be fine the tears came. He let them. Even Toby rubbed a hand over his face, his own eyes wet with emotion. He was three days in ICU. Moved to his own room. Scheduled for a flight out as soon as he was strong enough. Josh was scheduled to leave with Toby that afternoon.

They were long overdue. It couldn't be helped, but the White House was in need of its senior staff members, and there were many important issues that could no longer be delayed or handed down. Time was long since up. Toby was waiting downstairs with the luggage patiently, a remarkable act in itself, but the truth was he didn't want to leave any more than Josh did. But he knew his duty and told Josh, in no uncertain terms, what to do with his. This was after an argument where Josh insisted he was staying. Toby didn't have much of a leg to stand on, seeing as how he disregarded orders himself in order to save his friends. Truth be told, that was another reason he was reluctant to return to work. But he'd be damned if he was going through that alone.

Josh knew that if he looked through the pale striped curtains, he would see the stout figure pacing beside the taxi. He knew he had to leave, and knew Sam could be as much as a week behind them. He also knew Sam was in good hands, that despite everything that had happened, his interest and health was at the heart of the locals. Everyone knew what had happened. For a while well-wishers actually lined the streets, something Josh couldn't understand. Apparently the people felt guilty, having had peace for so long, to have something happen to US government personnel. Or maybe they were just curious. Sam merely blinked when he heard of the crowds, saw the flowers sent to his room in small, hand-picked bunches. On the surface he seemed as baffled as they were. They weren't certain, because he wouldn't talk. He had yet to say a word.

Josh leaned over him, smoothing the hair back from his brow. "Time for a trim, buddy. I'd give you one before I leave, but Toby'll have my ass if I don't get out of here." Sam shifted slightly, the pain medication keeping him well under. "I'll call you. I have to go now, but I'll be calling every day, so you better say something. No choice, I'm not wasting my money just to hear you breathe." He straightened, then placed a hand on Sam's chest. "Hurry home," he whispered. And Sam unexpectedly wrapped his hand over Josh's, opened his bright eyes, and gave a slight smile.

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_three months later_

"Sam." Toby walked into Sam's office without preamble and shut the door behind him. "We've got a problem."

"Just one?" Sam quipped, his face attentive.

"You know that bill that we worked so diligently on, the one that the President put his seal of approval on, the one that was going to get this administration running again? The one that was supposed to pass Senate?"

"It didn't pass."

"It didn't pass!"

"Why?"

"Apparently they didn't like the tag."

"The President authorized the tag."

"The President authorized the whole bill, but does it matter?" Toby's voice was calm but his expression was dark.

"So we run it through again." Sam's eyes darted to his window looking towards the bullpen, and back again.

Toby sighed and leaned against the door. "We approached this from the wrong direction. We're supposed to be leading, not following. Not only that, we're sneaking in from the back, that's not our style."

Sam turned his pen between his fingers. "Are you suggesting a frontal assault?"

"We need to pound the doors down on this one, Sam. This is the third bill in a row to be voted down."

"That's not so unusual for us these days."

"Of course it isn't! That's the problem! We're taking pot shots and throwing out scraps for the ducks to feed on! We should be serving fillet mignons and instead we have ground chuck!"

"Feeling a little hungry there, Toby?"

"Sam for once can you take this seriously? I'm saying we need to rewrite the proposal. Top to bottom. Josh is going over the bill itself."

"No he isn't. He's standing outside my window." Sam signaled for Josh to enter, but was waved away with a nod. Sam's friendly face clenched. "He knows I'm gonna kill him."

"What?"

"That's the fifth time in two hours he's stopped at my window."

Toby turned and glanced at it. "He's thinking."

"He's not. He's checking up on me." Sam pointed with his pen. "He's been doing this since we started back to work."

"Have you been chewing that pen?"

"Maybe."

"Well stop, its bad for you. . .where's the ballpoint I gave you for your birthday?"

"Out of ink."

"You can't refill it?"

"Quite frankly it hasn't been the first thing on my mind. Now Josh. . ."

"You have an ink stain on your sleeve."

"What? Oh, CRAP."

"That's why you don't chew on pens. Wash your mouth, too. I want to see the first draft by one o' clock, I want this thing done today." Toby opened the door, watching Sam leap up and check his shirt before straightening his collar and heading for the men's room. He smiled and walked into his adjoining office.

"It still sucks."

"Sam, it's a first draft!"

"And I usually write first drafts better than this! This sucks."

"What did Toby say?"

"That it sucks."

"Oh. Well then." Josh grabbed an apple out of a nearby fruit basket and tossed it to Sam. "What's your deadline?" He picked up a banana..

"You know, you really should ask before raiding someone's fruit basket."

"I gave it to her."

"Date?"

"More like a diet incentive."

"That's mean!"

"She wanted one! Deadline?"

Sam checked his watch. "Two hours."

"Then why the hell are you talking to me?"

"I need a break." Sam bit into the apple. He chewed thoughtfully. "You know, I could just walk in there and wince and clutch at my side."

"How many times have you done that this week?"

"A good point," Sam replied in a chipper tone. "Brief, but well made."

"You just need to get your swing back." He took the paper from Sam and read it. "Though I must admit. . ."

"Not you, too," Sam groaned. "Is it really that bad?"

"No, really, this is good, it just, I don't know. It doesn't have that Seaborn spark."

"Seaborn spark?"

"Yeah, you know, that. . ." he drew his lips tight together and made a fist, gently punching the air in front of him, "you know. That _thing_."

"It is that bad."

"No, it's just. . ."

"Bad." Sam snatched the paper away and started off.

Josh caught up with him. "Look, just lock yourself up in your office. . ."

"Where do you think I've been?"

"I mean no calls, no nothing."

"You obviously haven't been around when I write."

"I've been around when you and Toby write. Maybe you should work together on this, until you get your swing back."

"No, I can do this." Sam was frowning at his paper and not watching. Josh didn't even have time to yell out before Sam mis-stepped as the stairwell surprised him. He tumbled down as people swerved out of the way, then hovered over him.

Josh pushed them out of the way. "Sam! Jesus, are you okay?"

Sam looked up shamefaced. "Uh-huh."

"You sure?" Josh was actually prodding, checking for broken bones.

"Josh, what are you. . .stop that!" Sam slapped his hands away. "What are you doing? Ow. . ."

"Sam?"

"Mr. Seaborn?" A security guard shouldered the people aside, his badge flashing in Sam's face. "Do I need to send for a medic?"

"No, god no, get me up." He sat up slowly. "Just knocked my head around, back'll be sore. I'm fine."

"You need a doctor." Josh hoisted his to his feet, steadying him.

"Josh, really. . ."

"I mean it Sam."

"And so do I!" Sam flung Josh's hand off of his arm. "What is with you lately?"

"What?"

"I said I'm fine! Can't you just take my word for that! You gotta monitor my every move?"

"I'm trying to help!"

"I've noticed!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" The crowd had backed away but not dispersed, watching the sudden change of mood with avid curiosity. Sam could just see the stern figure of Leo McGarry looming in the distance.

"I mean you need to back off," he said firmly. "I mean you haven't given me a moment to breathe since I started back to work. I mean I don't need a sitter!"

"Hey, you're the one who came and got me out of my office! Don't put this one on me! You said you needed to walk!"

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it!"

"What's going on here?" Leo had arrived with all the speed of an angry bull. "Are the two of you out of your heads? You want the press corp up our ass? Take it outta here!" He grabbed Josh's arm and sent Sam a look that made him feel like he deserved a punishment from the principle's office. They allowed themselves to be shuffled back up the stairs as the various workers faded into the slick distance below them.

Leo's face was stormy. "You want to explain what just happened?"

Josh looked like it was the last thing he wanted to do, so Sam squared his shoulders and raised his chin. "I slipped. I fell down the stairs while reading a draft. It caused a commotion."

"Damn straight it did! You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Good. I'm glad. But that's not what I saw. What I saw were two grown men, two government officials and members of the White House senior staff, bowing up like kids in a school yard! Now if you have something to hash out then do so, and do it quickly and behind closed doors. We have staff in ten, the President has an issue to discuss, so I advise you go ahead and get this out of your system so you can go in there looking like the professionals you are supposed to be. You got that?" Leo wasn't to be crossed. His face was sharp and angular in the odd light, his eyes burning, his jaw set. Never mind his age. He could take anyone down by a stare.

Josh and Sam apologized to him. What choice did they have?

"Now I'm going to lock you two in a room. And you're going to talk. And then I'm going to come back, and this will be resolved. Do I make myself clear?" The younger men nodded as Leo lead them to an unused office and practically shoved them inside. The door slammed, and on a whim, Josh tugged at the handle.

"Holy shit. He really did lock us in."

"Great. How do I explain this to Toby?" Sam slapped his folder down on the table in the center of the room. Even in his mood he was caught by the notion that all the meeting rooms smelled like furniture polish and leather. "I don't have time for this."

"Hey, you're not the only one with work, ya know! I was pretty busy myself when you came for me!"

"With what?"

"You know, that. . .thing."

"Wonderful." Sam yanked at a chair and sat. He exhaled sharply, ran a hand over the back of his neck, and opened the folder. Josh stood quietly, then peered over his shoulder. Sam turned.

"Can I help you?"

"I thought we were supposed to talk things out."

"Funny, I thought we'd just wait for Leo to get us out. Not like we can miss senior staff."

"I wouldn't put it past Leo to make our excuses and keep us in here until the world unites under one flag." Josh sat near Sam. "What did you mean in the hall?"

"What?"

"You said you noticed. When I said I was trying to help."

"I did notice!"

"But that's not how you said it."

"How did I say it?"

"Like you're pissed! And you said I haven't given you a moment to breathe, what is that?"

"Fine. You wanna know?" Sam faced Josh. "Ever since I got out of the hospital you've been hovering. This is past concern. This is a fixation."

"_What_?!"

"You heard."

"Sam, that is – that's the most absurd. . ." he barked out a laugh, "you think I have a fixation?"

"I think when you got shot I was concerned and scared as hell, but backed off and gave you time to cope with it."

"Oh, is that what you call it? Funny, I thought you were avoiding me!"

"How could I avoid you? I visited!"

"And sat clear across the room like you were afraid to touch me!"

"I was! I mean. . .why are we talking about this?"

"You were? What the hell. . ."

They both realized that a subject had been brought up inadvertently, something that still shocked and scared them both, something they never really talked about, other than in that shack. With it dangling out in the open and both men coherent enough to recognize it, there was nothing to be done but plow on. "I felt guilty, okay?" Sam said. "I felt like I should have found you, like maybe you were wondering where I was or something."

"Actually, I believe I was thinking something along the lines of 'this hurts like a motherfuck'." Sam had to smile. "Really, Sam, I though any guilt was left behind us with all that."

"I was just trying to explain."

"Look, that has nothing to do with this. You won't even talk about this."

"I'm trying to forget about it."

"Sam. . ." Josh shook his head and looked away for a moment. Sweat started to dot his brow. "You can't not talk about it. If I learned anything about Rosslyn, I learned that."

"I'm fine. You're the one hovering."

"Okay, okay, I see where this is going. Fine. I'll start. That thing we went though was worse than Rosslyn could ever have been. I sat and watched. . ." he paused and bit his lip.

"I know, I watched it too."

"No, you watched them take me out of a room. You didn't see the beatings, you didn't hear the threats. You just caught me when I fell back in." Josh's voice grew soft. "I saw it. I saw them do things to you, I SAW a gun held to your head, I saw them hold you down and pour that shit down your throat. I SAW you beaten. And each time I waited for you to die. It's not the same at all."

"Josh, stop." Sam turned back to his folder, and started when Josh grabbed his arm.

"No! No, I won't stop there. I heard what they wanted to do to you. I had to sit there and listen and wonder and worry, and when they brought you in that last time I thought it was over. And I couldn't do a damn thing."

"No, you couldn't, so stop. . ."

"I watched it, dammit! All of it! So don't you DARE accuse me of hovering, because I swore to myself that nothing would happen to you again, that I wouldn't just stand aside." Josh released his arm and wiped a hand over his face, turning his attention to the glassy wood.

Sam's face wore a mask of regret. He was stunned, touched, embarrassed, every uncomfortable feeling rolled into one. He returned his gaze to the table, and the two of them sat in silence until the door opened with a creak and Leo looked in. "Better?"

"Yes," Josh said over his shoulder.

"Good. The President is ready." He watched as Sam slowly stood and pushed the chair back in. "And I want to talk to each of you separately after the meeting."


	9. Chapter 9

Josh had no clue what the meeting was about. He answered perfectly sensible questions with perfectly sensible answers, but without conscious knowledge of it. He was aware of Leo studying him, and of Sam sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other, his thumb tapping the instep of his shoe. He looked so wonderfully casual, the ease and comfort of his position among the staff members more secure than it had been a year earlier. He looked like he belonged, he no longer looked like a lost boy trying to do a man's job. And it occurred to Josh that although he still resembled a grad student, he wasn't as young as he looked. He didn't need to be coddled, and he had handled himself in a crisis with admirable strength of character. Josh suddenly questioned himself, wondering why he was so protective, and it occurred to him that he always had been. Sam was like an irritating younger brother. He loved him to death. After Rosslyn, he went though recovery and dealing with the shock. With Sam, it was realizing and acknowledging a lack of control. Being protective didn't do a damn bit of good in this world.

He stood in the back of the room and watched Jed Bartlet talk to Sam, asking his opinion which Sam gave openly in a soft yet firm manner. He watched as Jed leaned in, all attention, and saw how Sam raised his chin as he made a point, how his arms stayed loose as he gestured. He had no idea how Sam felt after his little confession. For Josh, it was a second layer of shock. He saw Leo watching him, and knew he was first on the "after meeting talk" list. And so it was, and Leo lead Josh into the office and shut the door, gesturing for Josh to sit. "You still seeing Linda?"

"Yeah, we have a lot to talk about." Josh rubbed his hands on his pants legs.

"No flashbacks?"

Josh sent Leo a piercing look. "No."

"So what's up with you and Sam?"

Josh sighed. "I don't know Leo, we just went through this thing together, you know? We have to sort it out."

Leo leaned back, his hand folded across his stomach, his expression kind. "I read what happened, but why don't you try telling me. Tell me what you're so afraid of."

Whatever the reason, the emotion wasn't leaving him. His heart still pounded from Sam's fall. Their brief talk had him on edge. He suddenly needed a friendly face to talk to, and Leo's grand-fatherly figure invited confidence. Josh looked up, surprised to find his eyes hot with tears. "I – I'm afraid. . ." his eyes fell upon a small glass pitcher, half-filled with water, "I'm afraid it will happen again, and I won't . . . I'm afraid people think bad of me now, after that. Sam got us out of there. Toby got us out of there. I hid."

"That's not what I heard."

Josh raised a confused face. "Sorry?"

"Sam says you saved his life. Several times."

"Sam got us out of that hut."

"And you kept vigil over him. You worried about him. You tried your damndest to kill those assholes when they had him."

"They threw me down. I was pissed, I didn't. . ."

"Josh, he knows. He knows you care, and I think it scares him."

"Okay, wait, he doesn't. . ." he allowed a small smile to grace his lips, "you don't think I'm. . ."

"Josh, don't even go there. Christ, you can't have a feeling these days without someone. . ."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, look, I'm glad he knows. I'd die for him. It's nice that he knows that."

"He'd do the same for you."

"This is getting mushier than I'm comfortable with."

"Mushy? Are you accusing me of getting mushy?" Leo actually sounded offended.

"No! I mean, oh god. . .just get me out of this conversation."

"Go get Sam and go for a drink. Get this out once and for all so I can have a proper working staff again, would you please?"

"Okay." Josh stood and pointed over his shoulder. "Uh, you-you want Sam now?"

"We've talked. How do you think I know all this stuff? I just need to see his draft."

"Oh. Yeah. Right." Josh started out, then turned. "You know that story you told me, about the man falling down the hole, and his friend jumping down there, you know the one. This was more like falling into hell."

"A little hotter, little harder to get out of." Leo shrugged. "But you're forgetting one thing."

"What's that?"

"He fell down there with you. You don't have to call for help. He was there the whole time."

"Actually," Josh said slowly, "I know that. I'm just afraid he's there, still." He gazed at Leo for a moment more, then walked out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The air was pleasant, the night calm, and the stars could just be seen in a hazy sky. "Makes them twinkle more."

"Huh?" Josh took a swig of his beer, his face puzzled.

"The stars. Hazy nights make them twinkle more."

"How many beers have you had?"

"Four?"

"Ah." Josh nodded and raised the bottle to his lips. "Just as well you live near here. This is nice, I didn't know it was here."

"Hasn't been open long. Best sidewalk café around."

"Feels like Italy."

"You've never been to Italy."

"I'm just sayin'. Or France, this could be France. Or New Orleans."

"Not muggy enough." Sam worried the label on his bottle, then raised it to the waitress who nodded and went for another. "Why are we here again?"

"I told you. To talk."

"Leo put you up to this."

"Sam, you're acting like you don't want to be with me or something. Not like we never go for a beer."

"No, but we haven't in a long time." Sam peeled of a strip of paper and sat back. The waitress placed the bottle in front of him, giving a nice smile before moving on to the table behind them. Sam upended it, then leaned against the iron rail that separated the tables from the sidewalk. "Guess that's my fault really."

"Why your fault?"

Sam considered. "You know, you're right. It's not my fault at all."

"Well, I'm glad we cleared that up." Josh signaled for another beer of his own.

"Really Josh, I know we're here for a reason cause I know Leo. Now let's get this out so we can actually enjoy ourselves later."

"What'd you have in mind for later?"

"Sleeping with a clear conscience?"

"You have a muddled one?"

"Okay, I'll start." Sam sighed. "Man. Okay, since we've come back you. . .cling. I mean you won't let me tie my shoes without checking the laces."

"I'm not that extreme!"

"I'm being. . .no, never mind. You know what I mean. And I know why you did it, I mean I understand, which is why I want to know why we're sitting here. You want to relive it again or something?"

"Sam, you won't talk about it. You haven't talked about it, and you're avoiding it now. Now stop with the indignant act and talk!"

"What do you want me to say? That I'm embarrassed? Humiliated? Ashamed? Mortified? I'm all those things, Josh. Talking doesn't help. Thinking about it doesn't help. And having you glued to my every move because of some guilt trip doesn't help either!"

"Sam. . ."

"I'm not a talker, Josh! Not about this. This is – this is too much to think about, too much to process. I don't want to talk. I want to work, I want to be allowed to work. That's what I need. Toby knows this, why don't you?"

"I – I don't know, I didn't think. . ."

"I know what you want. You want to hear how I got pissed at you, because you couldn't stop things. Because you always were the one to get the ball rolling and stop it when it was time, but you couldn't stop them. You want me to add to your guilt. Well, I'm not going to. I've got enough to work through without joining your pity party."

"Sam. . ?" Josh was stunned at the sudden change of mood.

"No. I'm not playing this." Sam stood. "I'm going home. I'm going to drink my own beer and watch a movie. I'm going to go over this draft a final time, take a hot shower, and go to sleep. And I'm going to wake up and go to work as if nothing happened. You have a shrink, Josh, use her. I'm not qualified for this."

Josh stood, ignoring the stares as his voice rose. "What – You selfish son of a bitch!"

"Enough. See you tomorrow." Sam handed the waitress thirty five dollars as she passed to cover his food and drinks, and snatched his jacket from the back of the chair.

Josh grabbed the waitress' arm and shoved another thirty into her hand before vaulting over the rail as Sam had done. He heard a comment from the table behind him, "lover's tiff", and shot the woman a glare before tearing off down the sidewalk after Sam. The man was walking angry, and might as well have been running for all he was able to catch him. "Sam! Wait up!" He could just see Sam step out into the busy street, glancing one way and the other before crossing. Traffic built back up before Josh could cross, and by the time he was on the other side, Sam was gone.

He hailed a cab and rode to his friend's apartment.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Toby?" Sam cradled his cell phone on his shoulder.

"Sam?" Toby flicked his watch around on his wrist. "What is it?"

"You working?"

"Do I ever stop?"

"Toby, it's eleven-thirty."

"And?"

"I'm coming in."

"You are."

"Yes."

"Might I ask the reason for this sudden enthusiasm?"

"Toby, I've cancelled dates and boat races for this job."

"All the more reason."

"I need to work."

"Come on, then."

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There was a shadow in the light, and that light was too damn bright to be real. Josh woke with a start to find a boy prodding at him with a stick. "What the. . .go away!"

"You ain't dead?"

"Oh god, do. . .wha. . . do I look dead?"

"You were lying on the steps. Thought 'cho you was dead."

"I'm not dead! I'm. . .aren't you supposed to be in school or in a nursery or something?"

"On a Saturday?" The boy continued to lean over him, his young face too critical.

"You got coffee?"

"No."

"Then leave." Josh scrubbed at his cheeks and checked his watch. Eight-thirty. He looked up at Sam's apartment and cursed loudly as he forced his stiff body to move. "Surprised I'm not in jail," he muttered, looking up once again and wondering why Sam would have left him out all night.

"You almost were. I said you locked yourself out and was waiting on a ride. Said you was tired."

"What?"

"I've seen you. Know you got a friend here. Wasn't worried 'bout nothin'. You want coffee?"

"I – no, no thank you. What's your name?"

"Marcus."

"Thanks, Marcus." Josh fished in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled bill. "Get yourself a candy bar or something." Marcus looked at the money, then at Josh, then snatched it and ran off down the street.

Josh grunted and made his way up to the apartment, feeling like an eighty-year old man. His knees actually creaked, and he knew that somewhere along his back and ass there would be a red line from the concrete steps. "Must've had more to drink than I thought." He shook his head and scolded himself for talking aloud in a deserted hall "like you never do it!" he said to listening ears, and rang the door bell. Inside he could hear Sam's phone ring, and hoped the man would be gracious enough to answer the door before answering the phone. And have coffee. Please god, have coffee. The phone continued to ring, and ring, and Josh shifted from one foot to the other impatiently. The phone continued to ring. Josh rang the doorbell and knocked, "Sam! It's me!" But the phone continued to ring, then stopped.

Josh pulled out his cell and called Toby. "Where are you?"

"Where do you think?"

Josh snorted. "Do you even have a home?"

"Sure. It's called my desk. What can I do for you, Josh?"

"You heard from Sam?"

"All night, unfortunately. He's asleep on my sofa."

"What?"

"He wanted to work, so I let him. I take it the talk didn't go too well."

"You knew about that?"

"Sam told me."

"Oh, right. Well, I'm at his place and was worried when he wasn't here, so. . ."

"He could've gone out for a bagel. Why worry?"

"Cause. . .I kinda. . .might have. . .slept on his front steps and he would have seen me when he came in so I figured he didn't come home and got worried. . ."

"Wait, what? You slept on his steps?"

"Not intentionally. And I was attacked. . ."

"Attacked?"

"Yeah, some kid poked me with a very long stick. . .."

"He should have shoved it up your ass! Oh, sorry Sam. . .hey, Josh slept on your steps last night."

"TOBY!!"

"I'm kidding. He's still asleep."

"God Toby, don't you breathe a word about this to anyone. Especially the stick part. I mean he already thinks I hover. . ."

"Sounds like you do."

"I was drunk! I. . ." Josh decided best to quit while he was ahead. "I guess, look, it doesn't matter. I'm going home to a real bed."

"If you say so."

"Say goodbye, Toby."

Toby hung up.


	10. Chapter 10

Josh was well asleep when Sam stopped by. He pulled out his spare key and opened the door, knowing Josh was home, knowing he was most likely asleep, and perfectly willing to scare the living shit out of him. He grabbed a drink and sat on the sofa, sipped, and waited.

He didn't wait long. There was a loud groan followed by a louder curse and shuffling. Josh entered, oblivious, his hair on end as well as his boxers. . .Sam smirked. His original intent was to just let Josh find him, but he couldn't resist a dig. "Good dream?"

Josh nearly peed.

Sam stood, brows furrowed, and looked to the floor where his friend had landed. "You okay?"

"JESUS!!! Do you mind????" Josh was frantically trying to arrange his boxers, gasping from the fright.

"Don't worry about that, looks like the scare did the trick." Sam gestured at Josh's limp boxers with his glass.

"What the hell. . .what are you doing here?"

"I decided to talk after all."

Josh stood, bracing his hand against the wall. His heart was still racing, and he was a long way from forgiving Sam for anything. "Christ, couldn't you just call? What time is it?"

" 'Bout noon."

"You're kidding." Josh leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Toby says you didn't sleep well last night. Neither did I really, so I brought some coffee." He pulled a canister from a paper bag as he walked to the kitchen. "Got sandwiches too. Cheese curls." He laid the items on the kitchen table as Josh watched. "Actually I thought you'd be up by now, but I took a chance. I went back to the office last night. Sat there and didn't do a damn thing, just shuffled papers from one corner of the desk to the other. Tried to read but something was wrong with my glasses, so I cleaned them for about half an hour. Moved my papers some more, then organized my desk." Sam poured water into the coffee machine. "You know how the sun comes in through the blinds? I sat and watched it. It makes these little lines on the desk, and these lines move as the sun comes up, and I was trying to think what it reminded me of. Then I ran to Toby's office and took an hour or so on his sofa."

Josh hadn't moved. He stared at Sam as he slowly set up lunch, talking more to himself than anything. "What did it remind you of?" he asked quietly.

Sam jumped and blinked. "The shack," he said simply.

Josh slowly edged along the wall. "What about it?" His voice remained low.

"The sun. It made lines in the dirt between the slats of the wall. I followed it. All I did was watch as they crept along. Eventually they left that shack, disappeared. Seemed to go right through the wood." He opened a pre-made sandwich and looked at it. "Figures. All this food and suddenly I'm not hungry." He slapped the bread onto the table and turned away. "I felt like the world was turning without me. Watching those lines, it was like time went on and no one cared. I was outside of it, somewhere time was moving but not where I was. I just watched it go by. And it struck me," he looked down at the table and ran a finger along the edge, not meeting Josh's eyes, "I mean, I suddenly realized how much time we really do have to do things. You realize what you can cram into one hour if you try? How productive you can be? I timed it in my head. The projects I do, the little daily mundane things, I should be able to do it all in two hour tops and then devote the rest of the time to bigger things. Things that matter. I was planning all this in my head while watching those damn lines." He turned to Josh. "Do you realize how much time there is in one day? We talk about not having enough time, maybe we're trying to do too much."

"You never can do too much," Josh said. He was in the kitchen now. He watched Sam's hands shake as they gripped the sides on the table. There was a butter knife nearby and he had a sudden odd inclination to jerk it away from Sam's view.

"Of course you can. You do too much, then when you take a break your brain is so numb you can't think straight. Things happen."

"Sam. . .you're not making sense."

"See?" Sam laughed and gestured at Josh. "That's what I'm talking about."

"No, I mean, why talk now? Sam. . ." Josh stood beside him. He saw the wrinkles in Sam's shirt, smelled the. . .beer ? "Did you, you didn't go by a bar. . ."

"I stopped by my place on the way here, and all I had in the fridge was a beer. I was thirsty."

"You couldn't have bought a coke?"

"At the time I wasn't planning on coming here."

"Just what were you planning?"

"I was planning on sleeping, Josh. Okay?" Sam's eyes caught sight of the digital clock on the counter. He pushed away from the table and shoved a sandwich towards Josh. "Look, I really do have to get back to the office, I just thought I'd stop by."

"Wait and I'll come with you."

"Jesus, Josh. . ."

"I need a ride, okay? I've got work too, I mean what's the big deal? Or do you want to start that again?"

"Fine! Ride with me. I don't care."

"No. NO! You sit there," Josh pointed, "and you listen once and for all. I'm tired of this. I think, no, SIT!" he pushed Sam into a chair, "I think this is all a cover. You don't have a problem with me hovering, as you put it, you have a problem with dealing with this whole thing! What's your beef, huh?" Josh bent down and looked right at Sam. "You don't want to admit that you can't handle this. Do you? Well?"

Sam stood and shoved Josh away. "I can handle this just fine! The problem is you won't let me cope with it! Dammit Josh, maybe my way of coping is different from yours! I'm not fucking china, okay? I'm not going to break!"

"Then what do you call that little scene you just played out? All that talk about time and that shack?"

"COPING!"

"WELL IT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE IT TO ME!"

"What the FUCK do you want, then?" Sam stormed into the living area as Josh followed, then spun on him. "You want me to crack? You want me to break down? You need for me to go NUTS so you don't feel so bad about goings nuts after Rosslyn? Is that it?"

"You. . SON OF A BITCH!" Josh ran at Sam and pushed him against the wall. "You have no idea what I went through! No clue!"

"POOR YOU!" Sam pushed Josh away, then found himself on the floor. He looked up with venom in his eyes. "One minute you make this about me, then it's about you and what you went through and how no one understands. What do you want from me?"

"I want to know that you were as scared as I was!" Josh's voice caught in air that was suddenly still. "I want to know that if I died, you would have cared! I want to know that the fear I felt was something you could relate to! I'm mean hell, Sam! I was terrified for you, and all you can do is blow it off and say you don't want to talk about it! Like it doesn't matter. It-It makes me wonder if. . ." Josh bent down, then collapsed to his knees. "I – I want to know that. . .I matter. That if I died in a shack, someone would be sad for me. That you would be sad for me."

Sam's face fell. "Jesus," he said softly, "is that it? You think you don't matter?"

"I don't know." Josh leaned back against the wall and propped his elbows on his knees. He ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know. I think I was just so scared. I was scared for you, and I hate that they were able to hold you over my head like that. I resented it, and for moment I resented you. God. . .I resented you! I was almost jealous, because. . .I knew how scared I was for you, and. . .I can't make sense of this. It was a feeling, how do you make sense of a feeling? It was the most intense, raw thing I'd ever felt, and I felt it alone."

"You think no one was scared for you?"

"I don't know."

"Josh, and I'm going to try and say this without sounding like I'm blowing my own trumpet here, but you do remember that I wouldn't leave without you. You – you do remember that bit, right?" He pulled himself onto his knees to face Josh. "That wasn't because I wanted to be a hero. It wasn't because I was scared of the consequences if I didn't try. Dammit, you're my friend, and I was just as scared for you as you were for me. I did tell you, I said I thought they were going to kill you."

"I remember that. And you, I don't know, you had this look. Freaked me out."

Sam smiled. "I think I know the look. It was on your face too." He leaned in. "And I know the fear. Why do you think I don't talk about it? I can't, I don't know how. I work with words for a living, but words can't describe this. It's frustrating. So I don't even try. I just, I don't know, I cope with it."

Josh's face softened into a semblance of a smile. He force out a laugh. "God, I've been such an idiot."

"Yep. But it's okay, I forgive you."

"You ass. You still need to talk about it, you know."

"I know." Sam's expression grew serious. "And one day I'll tell you how truly scared I was. But not today."

Josh studied him. There were lines of fatigue around his eyes. The corners of his mouth were pinched, and he still looked worn. But his eyes held a small spark that comforted Josh. "Just don't wait too long, okay? I hate thinking I'm the only one coping with this."

"You're not. And. . . just because I'm not talking, doesn't mean you can't." Sam sighed and leaned back. "I've had my fits, believe me. My nightmares. Maybe I just need more time."

Josh pushed his hands flat against the cool floor. "I'll take your word for it. But one day you're going to explode."

"Maybe."

"And I'm not letting you alone until you do. Because when you do, you'll need someone there."

"I know."

"So stop trying to drive me away."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Sam smiled.

Josh nodded and stood, then gave Sam a hand up. He looked around. "How about our next vacation we just stay here. Or maybe go to New York or something."

"Maybe." Sam raised his eyebrows. "Now, you eat while I use your shower, and I need to borrow a shirt. And you definitely need to shower after me."

"Yeah, yeah." Josh unpacked his sandwich. "Corned beef on rye?"

"Oh, sorry, that's mine. You have the chicken salad."

"Since when do you eat corned beef?"

"Shut up, Josh."

"Damned freak of nature." Josh unwrapped his sandwich and poured a cup of coffee. He suddenly felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So the trade deficit is up, the dollar is down, the Dow barely broke even, we have two countries that want to go to war and one that refuses embargo, and once again my wife is on the opposite part of the country from where she should be. No chance this is going to be a quick and easy day, is there?" Jed paced behind his desk, looking at Leo.

"No more so than usual, sir."

"Good, cause I hate surprises. Josh and Sam outside?"

"Yes sir."

"Everyone else?"

"Ready at your word."

"Send Josh and Sam in here."

Sam and Josh entered, apparently in the middle of a conversation. "So I told him no, but I really had no idea what to think." Sam turned from Josh. "Good evening, Mr. President."

"Evening, sir."

Jed nodded, his gaze as penetrating as always. "Anything I should know about?" His eyes fell to Sam.

"What? OH, no sir. I just left a meeting with Senator Howell."

"I take it the meeting went well?"

"Yes, it did."

Jed raised his chin in approval at Sam's self-assuredness. "Then what is this thing, where you said you 'had no idea what to think'?"

"Oh, that." Sam glanced sidelong at Josh and tucked his hands into his pockets, thumbing a tiny lint ball. "It, uh, it had to do with his daughter." He removed his hand and scratched behind his ear self-consciously.

"Enough said. Sorry I asked." Jed walked to his desk and leaned back against it, then waved the men to the sofa before him. "I understand from Toby that you two have spent the week here. Are your homes being fumigated?"

Josh gave a puzzled smile. "No. . .sir, we've been busy."

"So Leo says. And CJ. And everyone else around here that's been trying to keep up with your pace."

"Actually sir, I think we're all trying to keep up with Sam's pace. And, I might note, I've been home twice this week, which is more than I can say for writer-boy."

"Really? Twice? That many times?" Jed leaned back slightly. "I'm impressed! You can hear the sarcasm in my voice, of course."

"Of course."

"And what about you, Sam? Should we move Toby's sofa to your office, or your things to Toby's sofa? Mouthwash, favorite pillow, I'm sure you're not using these things at home." Sam opened his mouth to respond, and closed it again at the President's raised hand. "I'm not finished. I appreciate the work. I really do. But you're too young to work yourself to death, as much as this place tries to put it on you. Plus it won't make the memories any less frightening." He took note of Sam's sudden rigid posture and sat across from him. "Josh spoke to me."

"You mean you're both ganging up on me."

"Sam. . ."

"Sorry."

Jed exhaled deeply and laced his fingers together as he leaned forward. "Sam, I can't imagine what the two of you went through. I'm not even sure I have the balls to try. To tell the truth it amazes me that you are both here in my office. Now I'm not saying your way of dealing with things is wrong, because I'm no expert, and I'm not saying you are in denial, because again, I'm no expert. But you need a break."

"Sir. . ."

"You need a break, Sam. Both of you do. God knows the last one didn't do you any good." He nodded at Josh. "We've been talking."

"Really." Sam was studying the leg of Jed's desk.

"Yes, really. Take two days. Find something to do that you enjoy."

"I enjoy my work." Sam's voice was quite, his gaze riveted on the worn wood.

"Right now your work is your escape, Sam."

Sam looked up. "Escape? Everyday I hear about the trial. Every day I hear something about that– that man. And while I don't blame him in the slightest, I can't help but wonder if these kids weren't trying to do the right thing after all by bringing him down."

"We don't know that."

"And he's not talking. He was a drug-lord, a war-lord, he did things to people that were unspeakable even by Nazi standards. And he has the audacity to ask for immunity, to try and escape the events he should be tried for!"

"In their country. By their standards. He had nothing to do with the US, other than occasional contact with the military. What are you saying, Sam? Are you saying you're glad they kidnaped the two of you? Are you saying you wish they had succeeded?"

"Yes! No!" Sam shook his head. Josh watched in confusion. "I want him brought to justice. I want those kids brought to justice. I thought they were going to kill us. But I can understand why they did it. I keep thinking. . .maybe there was another way. Maybe if we had the chance. . ."

"To do what, Sam?" Josh was incredulous. "Sit down and have tea?"

"They were kids."

"The leader wasn't a kid. Their actions weren't that of kids, or have you forgotten that?"

"No," Sam said calmly, "I remember it every minute of every day. Every time I step foot into this place. Every time I turn on the news, or see trees, or I sweat. Every time I close my eyes."

"You need a break, Sam," Jed said quietly, "and that's an order. Either that or I'll proclaim you unfit."

Sam's eyes widened. "My work hasn't been good enough?"

"Your work is fine. The pending breakdown isn't."

"Why are you all so convinced I'm going to break? Why is it that because I haven't, you think I'm bad off, or not coping, or unfit?"

"I'm just saying you need a break, Sam. Whether you break down or up your decision."

Sam stared, then gave a small laugh. The tension eased. "Okay, okay. Better to give in on this one than fight. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'd thought," Josh said mildly, "that we'd go sailing."

"Sailing? Since when do you go sailing?"

"Since you invited me, which you are about to do," he looked at his watch and cued Sam, "now."

"Wanna go sailing?"

"Sure, why the hell not, the world's problems can wait," Josh hurriedly said and smacked the sofa with his hand.

Sam's mouth opened again and Jed stopped him. "Everything's taken care of. Go. Get wet. Not too wet, though, you're due back in two days."

"This gives taking a vacation from your vacation new meaning, doesn't it?" Sam's blue eyes were already dancing at the thought of the open seas. Jed smiled. Hell, it was in his name. Seaborn. Why the young man was in politics and not on stationed on some vessel baffled him.

Then again, maybe it didn't.

Sam turned to Josh. "Sure you want to do this?"

Josh watched the eagerness on his friend's face grow and spread like a child's. "Absolutely! What's a little salt water between friends?"

"Not quite your version of paradise."

Josh pictured Sam on the seas; confident, healthy, the wind in his hair, taking control of the craft and, once again, of his life. "No," he smiled, "but it's good enough."


End file.
